


be loved by you

by ipromisedyouareckoning



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: Batjokes, Best Friends, Bottom Joker (DCU), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Canon: Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game), Dating, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Feel-good, Feels, First Dates, First Time, First Times, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Jealous John Doe (Telltale), John Doe Not Being a Jerk (Telltale), John Doe is a Mess (Telltale), Kissing, Light Angst, Living Together, Love, M/M, Mood Swings, Moving In Together, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Bruce Wayne, POV Second Person, Pets, Pining Joker (DCU), Poor John Doe (Telltale), Possessive Bruce Wayne, Protective Bruce Wayne, Recovery, Requited Love, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Sharing Clothes, Sleepy Kisses, Slow Burn, Slowish, Sort Of, True Love, Vigilante Route (Telltale), Well - Freeform, because life is hard enough huh, he gets tons of hugs from bruce but still, honestly this is just to make myself feel better, i do what i want to do, idk - Freeform, someone hug john, you can feel better with me tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:21:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 30,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22172488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ipromisedyouareckoning/pseuds/ipromisedyouareckoning
Summary: John goes back to Arkham, and you to your billionaire life. Maybe you'll write sometime. It could have been as easy as that. However, things are seldom easy when you're friends with John. When the guilt still eats at you when you think about how all he wanted was to do the right thing. You can't help but think about bringing back Batman to help him out. Would you be able to work things out as Bruce Wayne? What would come from it, anyway?
Relationships: John Doe & Bruce Wayne, John Doe/Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 49
Kudos: 165





	1. stimulating

As you walk into Arkham, you can’t help but remember how you were committed to the dark building not too long ago. It’s still hard to believe you how fast you lost everything, from your friends to your company and even your civil rights. Selina was away, Alfred couldn’t help you, Harvey and Oswald had orchestrated the whole thing. And then John had entered the scene, with his knowing smile and his unfiltered kindness. You can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you had both stayed in Arkham. You figure you’re doing this because you owe him, so maybe things would have gone a different way if he hadn’t saved you from the inmates that first day. After all, what reason did he have to stand up for you? Not just back then, but through the whole series of events that followed. So it’s correct. You owe him, at least on some degree. While you have that clear, you don’t have a lot more. What would you say if someone were to actually question your motivations? You’re probably lucky your donations to the asylum since you learnt the truth about your parents seem to be enough for the doctors to let it slide. 

You sit on the visitation room, and then it occurs to you that John may refuse to see you. The thought that, after all that you went through, he doesn’t want to have anything to do with you sets a cold weight on your belly, but you see the logic on that. Suddenly you feel terribly out of place, the card on your bag seems silly, your regret feels pointless. John lost everything to help you, and you left him in Arkham. You don’t even know what you could say to make it better. What you could do. You could break him out, you think, on a whim. But you know that’s not a real possibility, even if you hadn’t hung the cowl. You start pacing, trying to regain your composure, and then the door opens, and bursting through comes John. 

‘Bruce! I knew you’d come to see me!’ 

You turn, raising your hand in a greeting, and find yourself wrapped on a shaky hug. As you feel his arms around you, you can’t help it, and you set your hands on his back. It lasts a second, though, and then a bald guard is pulling him away, apologising profusely that he’d let that maniac go near Mr Wayne. The scared expression on John’s face makes your blood boil, but you know he’s trying to do his job. With a dry tone you remind him the rules allow hugs that don’t last more than five seconds. He looks dumbfounded, but lets go of John and steps outside again. You give your friend a look, opening your arms. He looks suspicious, and it makes something on your chest sink. You close the distance, pulling him against you, trying to apologise without words. For your actions, for his current predicament and your involvement on the succession that landed him there. He hugs back, craning his head on your shoulder. It feels like absolution, and then you hear him speak into your shirt ‘That’s five seconds’. You pull away and sit down.

‘I’m sorry’, even if you don’t know what to say, you know you had to say it. It doesn’t make you feel better. You apologised, and everything stays the same, it feels wrong. He gives you a half smile. It just makes you wish you could fix it all.  
‘I... I honestly wasn’t sure you’d want to visit me.’  
‘John, I’m not here to visit you’ you see his face fall, and the way you worded it streaks you. He starts to get up, but you grab his shoulders. 

He looks annoyed, and you lean forward as you whisper ‘I’m getting you out of here.’  
You get him to sit and he looks stunned. You give him a small smile and hand him a Thank You card. He smiles at the drawing of a fox riding a bike loaded with bouquets in the front. It’s not the shy smile he’d given you after your half arsed apology, or the manic grin he had when he was the joker. You had missed his smile. He turns it on his hands, and gives you a confused look.  
‘I don’t understand’  
‘I think they were out of ‘take care on the asylum’ cards’. You try to lighten the mood.  
‘I almost killed you’ he whispers, looking at the table. ‘And you get me a card? You almost killed me and now you want to get me out?’

Hearing it just makes more real. It also makes you want to say everything you have been holding down. His not mad, or doesn’t seem mad. He seems hysteric, tilting between disbelief and suspicion. He has no reason to believe you, you have no reason to care.  
‘I will make this right.’ You lean in. ‘It’s gonna take some time, but you’re my friend, and I’m making it right.’  
‘I think I want to go back’ he signals to the guards through the crystal and gets up. The guard gives the card a look, but decides to allow it. As he exits the room, he gives stares at you. ‘We should do it again. It’s weirdly stimulating’.  
You hear his laugh faint down the hall, and you can’t shake a sheer hopefulness as you check out and climb into your car. The driver back home is fast, though, and you find yourself inside, staring at the walls way too soon. 

Your company might as well run itself, by now. Tiffany is working overtime, trying to get acclimated to the environment and Alfred is talking a long deserved vacation. You have nothing to do. It’s hard to believe you went through that crucible to end up on your couch, asphyxiated by some seasonal ennui. Against your better judgement, you go back to the Batcave. You’re not really breaking the promise you made to Alfred, the suit is still on the wall. You’re just taking a look at the Batcomputer, trying to sort out your thoughts. You can’t avoid feeling guilty, though. If he was to walk into the room right now, it wouldn’t look good. He deserves better, you keep telling you he does. It’s not like it’s hard to believe, you are just having trouble working on something else to spend your energy in.


	2. what to do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world around you seems to move on. You're pretty sure it does. Why can't you follow it's lead?

Waking up shouldn’t be this hard. Skipping breakfast shouldn’t be that attractive. The thought of calling your assistant and let him handle today’s meetings almost makes you smile. You’re not Batman anymore, you’re barely a shadow of Bruce Wayne, you can hardly stand up. Is this how it’s going to be until Alfred comes back? And what would he think if he saw you now? How could he make this better? The answer is as easy as hopeless; he can’t. Nobody can. You scowl, trying to get off that mind set. You walk into your gym room, trying to work some emotion off. Now that you think about it, you used to have a way to handle it when everything came down on you. Batman was a way to help the city, but it also took your mind off the things that bothered you. 

Becoming stronger has been a fixation, from the moment your parents died, along with your childhood. You know Alfred had his reasons to ask you to leave Batman behind, but it seems unfair. You were able to get through the pain and loss through the knowledge that you could actively fight against it. Without that, you’d have jumped off a building, lost yourself in the bottle, turned just as resentful as Oswald. You twist your mouth thinking of your former friend.  
You get up from the bench and manage to drag yourself into the shower, and then on your car. The city will have to do without batman, but Wayne Enterprises shouldn’t have to do without Bruce. 

After a briefing with the press regarding your new philantropic focus on the operations, you walk into Tiffany’s area, wanting to check on her. The thought that maybe she needed Batman to keep existing is an angered dog biting at your ankles. This is for the best for her too. Losing Lucius like that was an example. Having her do a regular internship that would help her future was the responsible option. You were probably just trying to find more pro Batman angles to trip over afterwards.

Tiffany rises her head, unaware of your internal monologue, just noticing your presence. She smiles at you.  
‘So, I’ve gotta ask, how’s the retirement going?’  
‘I guess it’s just an acquired taste. I’m yet to acquire it.’  
‘You don’t have to act like it’s the end of the world, you know. You look downright miserable.’  
‘Tiffany.’ You scold, half surprised at the jab.  
‘Honestly. You’re making me seem a sunbeam’  
You can see some possible retorts, but can’t seem to chose any, opting for remaining silent. She seems busy, maybe she’ll appreciate being left alone with the WayneTech wonders.  
‘I’m taking my mind of things’ she continues. ‘At least, until I know what to do with it. You should do the same.’  
‘Could I interest you in some lunch later, then?’  
‘I’m sorry, Bruce, I’m taking my brother to a friend’s place. He’s still dealing with it all’

You know better than to insist, so you apologise and leave. Take your mind off things. That’s rich from her, you think bitterly. She can go home and have her mother, her family and friends. Your friends are dead, in Blackgate, or in the wind. If you can consider Selina a friend. And then there’s John. Correction, your friends are either dead, in Blackgate, Arkham or evading justice. Or in the Bahamas. You know you’re being unfair. You take the elevator and go out, walking randomly on the streets. You smile ironically as you google ‘What to do’. The first option in the article you click on is throwing a small party, and it gets a snarl from you. The second one is making a photo collage. It makes you think about John’s habit of taking pictures of his friends, and you find yourself scrolling down quickly. The next activity in the list is ‘Listen to your favourite music’. The way it makes you think about Lucius death is too much, so you scroll up, settling for something you can still help, rather than memories that are still too painful.

You can’t help thinking you’ve lost your mind as you dig on the Batcave for the scrapped pictures you had recovered from The Old Five Points. Of course, you could take a different approach, collecting the old pictures you have with your parents and your teen pictures with Alfred where you look low key ready to gut someone. After some consideration, you decide to go with John pictures. As you drive to Arkham with the pictures and some photobook you grabbed from a Poundland you tell yourself it’s a bad idea. He may be angered by the memories, he could be sad. There’s a possibility he likes the idea, though. He is, anyway, the closest friend you have at the moment, and you figure it’s worth a shot.

The guards give you a look and let you in without further comment. You wait in the visitation room, feeling somehow better than the last time. This is not just some contrition gesture, it’s an attempt at something that seems like friendship enough. Then John enters the room, smiling at you. You start saying something, but he’s faster.

‘Hey, bud! Got any sugar mice?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i'm trash at introspection, mum. hope you liked it though? the next chapter won't be as boring -cross my heart // hope to die


	3. guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it selfish?

You can’t imagine the expression on your face. You compose a smile, and hesitate when the guard leaves.   
‘Sugar mice?’  
‘Oh, you’re right. I could have asked. Then again, you could have told me you were coming.’

He makes a reasonable point. It would be common courtesy, at worst. Is he that busy in Arkham? You feel guilty for the way you ask yourself that. You snap out of your thoughts to find John busying himself with the bag you’d left on the table. 

‘Bruce!’ He shuffles through the pictures. ‘I thought these had all burned. Or, you know, were government property’ he makes a face.   
‘Yes, they could have been. I knew I had to go back for them.’  
‘I swear you’re weirder every time we meet. But I accept the apology, just tell me when you’re coming next time. We have phones here, you know.’

For some reason it had never crossed your mind you could call John before. Have to remind yourself he lives on an asylum, it’s not jail. People are trying to help him. You smile as he takes a seat next to you and opens the photobook. He seems lost in thought for a moment, and you worry, but then he turns to you.  
‘You always look so done in pictures. I guess part of me always thought you were done with me.’  
‘John...’  
‘ But you are actually here. And you don’t look like you’re over it. Why?’ He seems to examine your face.   
‘I... I’m not sure I could explain why, but I assure you I don’t resent your presence, I’m honestly glad you agreed to see me two days in a row.’  
‘Agreed? What are you even saying. I hadn’t dared think you’d come. Seemed too uncanny’ he laughs, and you can tell he’s nervous.   
‘I understand the way I behaved was pointed, but I had...’  
‘Oh, I have just the thing!’ He gets up before you finish your sentence and makes for the door ‘Wait here.’

While he’s gone, you flip through the photos and stop at one depicting Harley. You seriously consider taking it away, it could easily be triggering. You’re still weighing the decision when John returns, clutching a kid’s instant camera on his left hand.

‘Do you think you can smile for this one? We could use some variety’  
You don’t bother asking how he got a camera on an asylum. You do know how to smile for a picture. It’s not like it’s your fault he always pulled his phone out in funerals and events of that sort. He angles the camera and stands next to you. You fleetingly think about pulling him closer, but settle for resting a hand on his shoulder, as the light flashes.  
‘Now I’m not promising anything,’ he says, as the film goes out ‘because I’m still working on the right position, it’s honestly hard, and when these were invented ‘frontal camera ’ wasn’t even a thing.’ 

He shakes the picture energetically, a cheerful expression on his face. It makes your throat hurt.

‘I’m sure it’s good’ you say, looking at the pictures in the table. ‘So how did you get the camera?’  
‘It’s something like therapy, you know? They let you tinker with some stuff like this. Typewriters, watercolours, chess and stuff, nothing that can get a signal of course.’ He sounds annoyed. ‘ Our phones have no screen. You’d think now with all these improvements we’d get something like that’ He winks, jokingly.   
‘Why do you want an internet connection?’  
‘Come on, maybe I just want to know what’s going on with the world.’ He gives you a lifeless laugh ‘Being in a place like this forever might even make sense after a while, but having all the emotion of an actual life and then going back to square one? That’s irrational. Sometimes I will wake up after dreaming I’m walking out on the streets without the rules and the surveillance, and see I’m back on my bunk.’

He stopped shaking the picture somewhen through the explanation. He’s just staring at the table. 

You want to say something, anything, to make him feel better. How you can tell him about what’s going on outside, how you’re going to get him out, how you’re not committed, but you still feel trapped inside some invisible prison at times. It wouldn’t matter. Would it make sense at all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> srry, i'm sleep deprived and i spend a long time readong about mental guards and now


	4. corners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When did talking to a patient on an Asylum get this comforting?

‘What would you do? If you could go out, say, tomorrow?’  
‘Well, how should I know?’ he laughs. ‘You were always the one with the plans. What should I do? What did you do?’

You open your mouth to answer, but can’t say anything. You remember the discharge, the drive home and the rioters that ambushed your car. You remember Alfred and remember thinking about owing John. You remember feeling apprehensive, knowing Gotham needed you. Not being in your right mind and having work to do. You remember feeling lost. Being in the asylum had been a sentence, but also a promise. The world would had have to do without you. You could have just sat back while the city tore itself to shreds with the knowledge that you had tried to help.

‘Buddy...’  
‘I didn’t want to go out.’ You turn to him, with a hopeless expression. ‘I am glad you got me the phone, because I had to go out, I just didn’t want to. We got into a riot on the way to the manor, I had to figure out an antidote while the toxin was still on my system. I got one of my oldest friends in Blackgate and the other is here.’  
‘Whoa, man, I thought this was my pity party. Come on, get it off your chest.’  
He looks genuinely interested, although a little amused. It’s good enough for you, since you hadn’t really talked out about that. If you told Alfred, he’d just worry about you, and you’re rather short on friends. You let out a heavy breath and rant on.  
‘Alfred got abducted and he was tortured. I just felt so wrong, knowing I could get the person that has been like a father to me killed. Saving Wayne Enterprises after the time Oswald ran it was a whole task. Then someone I really liked stole from Wayne Tech and revealed what he had was all just part of the job.’  
‘Sucks, right?’  
You guess you deserved that. A small objection forms in the back of your throat, something about how you were trying to save everyone, and not just make a buck.  
‘I... I wish it hadn’t come to that. I really saw you as a friend. Still do.’

John makes a face and reaches for one of the photographs, this one depicts Harley with a mean sneer and her bat.  
‘It was Catwoman, right? She seemed to care, back in that stand off you had with Waller.’  
‘That’s not...’ You don’t know how John feels about Selina. You’re not sure on how you feel about her.  
‘Your catty friend manipulated you and then you used me and then I handed Harley over to the Agency. It should make me sulk, but I guess I don’t mind it. I guess in the real world one’s always in some trouble, and whoever’s with you gets dragged in.’  
‘That seems accurate enough’ You toy with a picture of some of Bane’s henchmen.  
‘I think that’s why I believe you when you say you like me. Catwoman liked you and I liked Harley so it must make sense you do like me.’ You don’t know how you feel about the way he cocks his head in your general direction.

It’s not a big deal, because then he’s reaching into your bag and pulling out the pack of photo corners you got with the photobook. He opens it and empties the contents on the table, and he seems confused by the small pieces of paper. It makes you remember he doesn’t know a lot about his life before the Asylum. It makes a small part of you want to hug him, but then he’s peeling one off the sheet and putting it in his mouth and you’re mostly confused, until he spits it out. 

‘So these are photo corners’ you say in a neutral tone. ‘Photo corners, this is John.’ He seems to make the connection and starts laughing again. The sound still reminds you of the Joker, but you’ll take it before his ranting on his lost freedom any day.  
‘Well, these surely beat using tape. How comes you’re so into scrap books?’  
‘My parents are dead, John’ you find yourself huffing a small laugh at the way it makes sense when you say it. ‘Nothing will get you more into photographs than dead people.’

He seems unsure about laughing, and begins fixing the picture he just took into the page. His slender hands working make you think of pale spiders. You like spiders. Thoughtlessly, you reach for your phone and snap a picture of him, right as he rises his head. He seems surprised, but laughs it off. You help him add the rest of the pictures, randomly commenting on the persons in them on a detached way. Eventually, a guard walks in, saying John is going late for dinner.

You don’t like the thought of interfering with whatever routine he has now, but he just rolls his eyes and says everyone is always late for dinner because nobody likes the dry marble cake they give for dessert. He looks at the album, now resting on the table, and then at you. You look at the guard, and then say he can have it. The guard shrugs and escorts him out of the room. John waves goodbye, and you realise you’re sad to see him go.

When you go outside, the sunlight is almost completely gone. Walking back to your car feels lonely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruce probably seems ooc and i’m sorry, i’m writing him after bruce in my game. and he’s not batman but that’s because alfred is probably my favourite character in most batman media and he made you promise you’d stop being batman. my batman enjoys being kind and not cunning at all, listening to mahler and not hitting kids owo.


	5. john

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feel the romance.

Back at the manor you slouch on a chaise lounge. Covering your face with your left hand, you let yourself realise you’re systematically tripping yourself over with these interactions. No matter how you look at it, you’re falling for John Doe. He himself acknowledged your friendship was kind of unsettling, and you don’t want to know what he’d think if he knew what you’re thinking about. It reminds you of the way you felt attracted to Vicky Vale. You felt the darkness on her even before knowing she was Lady Arkham. The grit she displayed as a journalist and her disdain for Dent had reeled you in and clouded your judgement enough to give the documents to her instead of Gordon. Of course, after what she did to Alfred it felt wrong just remembering it. A voice in the back of your head reminds you it was John who tipped you on how to find her. And, sure, Alfred isn’t in the John Doe’s fanclub, but you remember how they talked on the alley after taking Bane down, and when you remember him sterilising John’s scratch it feels like it could make sense.

You’re falling for John Doe and his improbable green hair and his occasional defensiveness and his thin pink lips. You can’t help but smile, even as guilt fills your chest. You pour yourself a whiskey, and think it’s still healthier than beating goons up. Now that you have reached some sort of truce with that idea, you wanting John, it allows you to indulge on what if’s. What if you get him out of the asylum. What if he returns your feelings. Would he like you, be obsessed or just really grateful? You stop that train of thoughts. It’s too complicated, and it’s getting too late and you should have gone out to some auction to show Bruce Wayne still knows how to party, but you’re too done and have had one too many whiskeys. The idea of crawling to your bedroom depresses you, so you end up crashing in your own couch. Alfred isn’t there, what is he going to do?

You wake up confused, seeing you’re still on your clothes. You wish you had gone out and gotten way more drunk, since now it’s still before noon and you don’t have a lot of things to do. Out of sheer willpower you groom and dress yourself, and get to some posh exposition downtown. You see the abstract paintings, and it makes you think of the emptiness you’re dealing with. Something makes you think you’d end up thinking about it even if you were watching Monet’s landscapes. You should seriously get a hobby.

You’re getting the sale details of a piece with a big red triangle in the middle of the canvas when you realise you’re not willing to spend another night pitying yourself for still being alive and free. Still, you’d rather not go and hang out with snobs at some VIP lounge. Before you can stop yourself, you are dialling Arkham’s main number, and asking for the administrator. When he hears your request, he huffs, but ends up granting it after some negotiation. John would probably said you charmed your way into a yes, but you’re going to bet this time it’s more about the money than any personal opinion he has about you. Anyway, you thank him and then ask to speak with John. You’re transferred with no warning to what you assume is a patients only line. The on-hold music plays for a solid minute, and then John picks up.

‘Bruce!’ he sounds excited, and you give yourself points for deciding to call. ‘How are you?’  
‘Hi, ehm, it’s good to hear you. I’m doing fine’ You hesitate as the words leave your mouth. Are you? ‘How about you?’  
‘I’m great. This means you’re swinging by today, right? Or is it a rain check? I mean, either way I’m...’  
‘Yes. No, the first one. Like, if you’re good at seven- ish.’  
‘Seven? Yes, sure, but they won’t let me skip dinner.’  
‘Oh, of course. Dinner.’ You act like you forgot, it’s better for the time being. ‘Tell you what, I’ll talk to the doctors and get you food, sounds good?’  
‘Get me food? You know they have rules here, right?’ He sounds surprised, but amused.  
‘Let me worry about the rules.’  
‘Alright.’ He sighs happily. ‘But it has to be better than the dry cake they give us here.’  
‘You’ll like it. Trust me.’ You’re sure he can hear your smile through the phone.  
‘Alright, then. But now I’ve gotta leave. The orderlies are never happy if we linger on unplanned calls’ he sounds annoyed. You’d be annoyed too, if someone told you how long you can use the phone.  
‘Alright, then...’  
‘Wait! Before you hang up...’ he hesitates on the line, and it makes you aprehensive.  
‘Hey, what is it?’  
‘Could you say my name?’  
You stop as you are. Does he want you to call him Joker? Does he want you to hear you say John? And what does it mean, anyway. You decide to take the risk not with who he may be but with who you wish he could be.  
‘John? John Doe.’  
‘Thank you, Bruce. You know, at times it seems too easy to forget here.’  
Without adding anything, he hangs up. 

There is a small part of your brain that won’t stop saying this is a bad idea. However, you’re feeling fine. John seems stable. This may just go well. You manage to kill some time in the gallery and coordinating your new purchase, but the time couldn't run by slower it if tried. You end up just driving around the city, hoping the clock hits seven before you die. You check in at the Asylum at 6:58 and, when you enter the familiar visitation room, you're surprised to see John there already. He beams when he sees you.  
‘Thank you for calling beforehand’ he throws his arms around you and you pray he can’t feel the way your heart beats at the gesture.  
He breaks apart and looks at you, and you suddenly don’t know how to say what you’re doing. You opt for the most direct way.

‘How do you feel about going out for a few hours?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> life has been kicking my arse so i went on and took the slow out of slow burn, i think. it's probably still too slow. john deserves everything.


	6. red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take John out. Like friends do. Out of the Asylum. Hey, maybe your wording needs some work?

John stares at you without saying anything, and you fear you were too direct. You don’t want him to do anything weird, as you know you’re being watched.  
‘I know how it sounds, but we can go get some dinner and I’ll get you back by nine.’

He looks at you and nods absently. All you can think about is getting him out so he can have a breakdown moment on your car, on your lobby, anywhere away from the hospital staff; and you grab his hand, leading him out. You’ve made it halfway through the carpark when he seems to react, and his fingers tangle in yours, he gives you a sideway grin when you get the passenger’s door for him. He doesn’t look like he’ll let go anytime soon, so you use your free hand to get his off, trying not to think about the way the warm pressure makes you feel.  
You never want John to stop looking at you the way he does when you finally climb in and start the engine. He seems recovered from his daze, and lets out a chuckle. 

‘You will never cease to impress me, Bruce. How on earth did you manage to pull this off?’  
‘Well, it may have a little to do with the fact that virtually I’m paying their wages’ You snort. ‘No, honestly? The administration just said you’re a good patient.’

As you exit Arkham and take the main road, it feels freeing. And you shouldn’t feel tempted to just drive away and take him on to some remote island with no extradition. You shouldn’t think he looks rather nice on his Asylum clothes. You shouldn’t –  
‘It’s kind of hard to give anyone hell when you don’t even know who you are.’  
‘John...’ the way he says it shouldn’t stir something on your chest. ‘You’re my friend.’ You feel his eyes on you, your throat feels dry as he folds his hands, looking eager.

‘Well, what do we do now? Oh, god, I’m really out of that place.’ He laughs uncontrollably, leaning forward and hiding his head on his hands. You slow a little, leaning over him to click his seatbelt in place. He sits upright for a moment, and then opens his window.  
He seems mesmerised by the way the city lights go by as you drive. You want to tell him you can’t believe it either. You know they don’t let most inmates go out after a few months, and they have to be released to a family member. You let out a nervous laughter, and he turns to you.  
‘You really are happy I’m here.’  
‘I am’ words don’t seem fitting, you want to pull him in and show him how glad you are, but it is all so inadequate you restrain yourself. ‘I really am.’

You haven’t totally parked when John jumps off and just stands at the entrance of the manor. You really should stop thinking of it as The Manor, but you can’t really help it. It’s hard for you to feel comfortable anywhere but the Batcave. You force yourself to stop thinking and get down, walking up to John. He gives you a sly look.

‘If I just stand here are you going to drag me inside too?’  
You huff, happy to see he didn’t think it was weird and, with no warning, you throw him over your shoulder, making him yelp.  
‘Batman!’  
‘Just Bruce.’ You sigh, as you let him down on a couch. ‘Are you eating at the asylum? You’re really light.’  
‘You can boast on how you can carry a grown man with no effort later.’ He stands up, staring at the interior.

You stare at the floor, giving yourself some time before you have to see him. To see him in your home. What if he had come straight to you after Arkham? You could have housed him, taken care of him, as any friend would. You turn to watch him crouched over, tinkering with your fireplace. You sit next to him and light it up. 

He seems entertained by the flames, and then turns to you: ‘Where is Alfred?’  
‘He’s on vacation’ Your voice sounds rough. You would try and level it if you weren’t so busy contemplating the way the firelight reflects on his green eyes and gives his pale skin a rosy tone. You’re drawn out of it when he tilts the screen and reaches to the fire, causing you to grab his arm firmly. This earns you a giggle.

‘We... can’t have fire in Arkham.’ He says, quietly. He gives you a look, and then lies down on your carpet, staring at the ceiling.

That isn’t giving you any ideas at all. You don’t want to pet his hair. You’re not thinking about how it would feel going through your fingers. It’s probably soft, you guess. You are still holding his arm, and should let go. You don’t. Your hands make their way up his wrists and into his palm. You run your thumb on the scar there, and remember how your batarang went through cleanly. You meet his stare and rise the back of his hand to your lips. The flushed tone on his cheeks is hardly a product of the fire now. Before any of you can say something, his stomach makes a noise, and you’re standing up and apologising. It’s hard to believe you spent twenty minutes just staring into the fire.

‘Well, I said I’d get you dinner and I’ve had you starving in front of a fireplace.’  
‘I was serious.’ He stands up too. ‘I had a good time with you.’  
‘I was serious too, I do care about you.’ You make a gesture, inviting him into the dinning room with you.

You’re thinking he must really hate the marbled cake he mentioned the other night. You bite back your laughter when you see his mouth full of the red velvet cake you got for him. He says something, but you can’t quite make it out. He swallows. You didn’t watch his throat. Didn’t even think about it.

‘Now this is cake!’ He’s got red crumbles on his lower lip. It looks weirdly attractive. It vaguely looks like the makeup Joker had on.  
‘It’s not a bad look for you.’ You gesture so he knows to wipe it off. He looks confused, but then licks his lips. You clear your throat at the sight. Think of something else. You remember his camera ‘So, what kind of pictures you’ve been taking?’  
‘All kinds of. Lately I’m photographing every bird that flies over our yard. They’re probably very common, but I like them. They remind me there’s something out there. Out here.’

You eat some more, talking about what you’re up to as a bored chairman and what he does to entertain himself. Faster than it has any right to be, it’s a quarter to nine. You can drive to the Asylum in half that time, but you don’t want to give the directors any reason to be mad at John.

‘John’ you can’t help but feel the guilt resurfacing. ’John, we have to leave now’  
‘Already?’ He looks lost, and you make a mental list -Morocco, Ukraine, Vatican, Chad, China, Nepal, Serbia... can you get extradited from Costa Rica?- but you know better than to follow through.  
‘I don’t want to get the next outing denied, John.’ You say his name like a prayer. Please forgive me, please work with me, please believe in me. Believe in us. ‘Tell you what, we can take a picture now, so we’ll have to do it again next time.’  
‘You...’ He looks surprised, almost suspicious. ‘You’d like to do this again?’  
‘Yes, of course.’  
You pull out your phone and get the front camera. You swear you can see all of John’s teeth on his smile.

As you park in the Asylum, you’re the one that feels lost. You walk him back in, and the orderly in charge looks surprised as you make it with three minutes to spare. John looks around, as if preparing to get back to his daily life. He waves at you, but you grab him by a shoulder before he crosses the detectors and pull him in. It’s a small hug, but it makes him smile as he walks back in, and it gives you the guts to walk back to your car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is l o m g. it's just longer than usual, and i'm really happy with it. i looked batjokes up on spotify, got the playlist with neon trees and mother mother and just went happy with sappy ideas, and it's like so cool. i try really hard, okay?


	7. colour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman doesn't forget anything. But you are not Batman. Is Bruce Wayne's memory just as sharp? What about his coordination?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just thiink it's just a good moment to mention none of this is proof read or anything, okay?

You wake up and see it’s just after two. After getting home last night, you stayed up late going over old criminal files, force of habit. Sometimes life is a riddle. You spent years training and actively fighting for justice and now you have to find hobbies. That don’t include reading biographies, trying to become stronger and perfect martial arts. You find yourself wishing for a board meeting or something. Then, you remember last night and the way John looked while he was talking about birds. You think about birds. A quick internet search reveals John has been seeing woodpeckers, waxwings and maybe cardinals. You smile. You get up and get in the bench press. The way your muscles react seems to make the calm easier. Maybe you don’t have to fight maniacs anymore, but you liked lifting John. 

You have breakfast and shower without really noticing. You’re forgetting something. You aren’t forgetting anything, you are Batman. No, you were Batman. Bruce Wayne doesn’t forget anything. You’re just brushing the worry off your mind when your phone lights up, with a message from Avesta reminding you to have dinner with Regina Zellerbach. You curse yourself for longing for some kind of excitement. You appreciate her help and how she vouched for you in the past, but you could do without an evening pretending to long over those long golden days. You thank her for the reminder, she is a great analyst, but her tasks doesn’t look like a challenge for her, and seems to have taken the mission to make sure your image stays sharp with Alfred gone in her spare time. 

Regina is the same sober and traditionalist woman. You may just have missed an older figure giving you advice that you probably won’t follow. You’re glad you patched up your relationship after the incident in the elevator. You don’t mention you’re still seeing John Doe. You find it unnecessary. You go through the motions and pretend you’re glad you’re finally able to catch your breath, after the last months’ events. It feels familiar, but also like you were on a play.

You walk her to her car and get in yours to see you have missed a call at 7:58 pm. You don’t recognise the number, and call back. It rings for what seems like an eternity and then someone picks up explaining the patients aren’t allowed to take phone calls after nine. You hang up without saying a thing, and drive to Arkham. All you can think of is John. Is he in trouble? You don’t know if you are still allowed inside, it’s a quarter past nine. You know the lights go out at eleven. You connect your phone to the Batmobile -are you going to have to rename your car?- to print out the picture you took yesterday and put on your Bruce Wayne smile. You approach the reception desk and say you forgot to give John something last night. The orderly, Erin; as her nametag says, doesn’t look up from the computer.

‘Just some patients are approved for visitors after dinner. What’s the name?’  
‘John Doe.’  
She seems to ponder if it’s a joke, but ends up looking it up all the same.  
‘Okay, he’s in his room. You have to leave at ten, unless you have overnight visitation rights.’  
‘I have... what?’ The idea of that makes you take a step back, and it gets her to look up.  
‘Bruce Wayne! Wait, no. This is _that_ John Doe?’  
‘So, I can go in, right?’ You sigh, deciding to ignore her interjection.  
‘Take a left and then the third right, it’s the Q8.’ 

You nod and follow the directions. You pass a patient and two orderlies that pay you no mind, but the third one stops you.

‘Mr Wayne? Are you here to see John Doe?’ You’re about to explain you got authorization, but he doesn’t give you the chance. ‘Would you tell him Sandy sent him this?’ He puts a cylindrical object on your hand.  
‘Thanks’ You say, but he quickly walks away, as if he didn’t want to be seen handing you... a tube of lipstick? Are you too paranoid if it think it may be related to his memories as the Joker? You’re still cracking your head about it when you reach his door. It’s open, and you see him reading in his bed, he’s sitting with his legs crossed and his attention absorbed by the text.

You don’t know how you expected his room to be. There’s a bed and a small desk. For a moment, you’re mad. What is this place even doing with your money? There is a small window, but it seems too high for him to peek through. It’s not like you want flatscreens installed in all of the rooms, but surely there is something to be done about the dull walls. Criminally insane, this is a hospital for the criminally insane. Is John insane? It didn’t really seem that way to you. Not more than Tiffany or yourself. Or Waller. Seeing this room everyday could drive anyone insane.

‘John?’

His head shots up, he seems surprised to see you there. He laughs, and it’s a nervous sound. It’s rather quiet, but it seems unsettling, and you. You should ask if you can come in. You don’t. You step inside and stands next to his bed. It seems rather small. He puts the book aside and grabs your wrist, making you sit. His eyes are really open. It should make you uncomfortable.

‘Why?’ He contains his laughter.  
‘I should have called. I’m sorry, I missed a call and it was from the Asylum and when I called back well, they said patients couldn’t use the phones after nine, and...’  
‘You came because of a missed call?’  
‘Calling back didn’t work.’  
‘I knew you couldn’t stay away.’ Then, his enthusiasm deflates. ‘I shouldn’t have called. I hung up immediately. I just... You know, I know you feel guilty. And you probably will stop, eventually. So what happens after you do?’  
‘I...’  
‘It’s like all of this is , like I am a use once and destroy fix.’  
‘John, I don’t...’  
‘Why did you even come, if it’s not guilt?’

Does he really think you are here because you feel guilty? Guilt is a part of your life. You feel guilty for sleeping with Selina and leading Harvey to madness, for not being able to show Oswald a different way, for letting your feelings for Vicky Vale cloud your judgement, for not realising the toll your crusade was having in Alfred. Of course you feel guilty for landing John in Arkham. But you’re not checking on Harvey, you’re not looking for Selina or visiting every castle in the Isle of Man with Alfred, or whatever he is doing. You are here. You wish you could say this outloud.

‘I care about you. I enjoy your company. I like your pictures. I like hearing your laugh. I also honestly want to get you out of this place. I was worried when you called me, yes, and I feel guilty, but guilt is not even a real fraction of what I feel...’ You make yourself stop. ‘I’m here because we’re friends.’  
‘Bruce...’  
‘But officially, as I told the staff, I’m here because you forgot this at my place.’

You hand him the picture, and he somehow manages to grab it and throw his arms around your neck at the same time. His breath seems irregular, but he seems a little less frantic when he pulls back.

‘I’m sorry, buddy, I do believe you. It’s just, I don’t know. Thank you’ he laughs, and goes to his desk. Your eyes follow him and land on a standing frame holding one of the pictures he took before everything with the Pact went south. Why do you feel so guilty? No, how could you not feel guilty? He seems to search something on the drawers, and ends up pulling up another picture frame. He fixes the new picture and claps, excitedly. 

You stand up and approach him, contemplating the pictures. Then, your eyes falls to the drawer, filled with white regular clothes. He follows your gaze.  
‘I honestly never found a worse colour on me than white.’ He jokes. It’s like it matches my skin.  
‘I just saw a patient with brown slacks, didn’t they let you keep your clothes?’  
‘Clothes?’ He snorts. ‘They were all bloody rags. I don’t really mind it, but the lack of colour could drive anyone mad. And everyone could use a sweater these nights.’

Lack of colour. You remember the lipstick on your pocket. Should you give it to him? You decide it’s not up to you. You pull it out and offer it to him: ‘Sandy sends this.’

He lights up, and tells you how a shrink in charge of group therapy had caught his eye for her tone of lipstick, and how he had asked about it. Why was he looking at the therapist’s mouth? Is it really that important to him? You could get him all the lipsticks he’d like. Is it a dumb idea to have? You’d get him the whole aisle, the whole mall, so he could try them all. You snap out of it and tell him how the attendant had handed it to you. He seems surprised.

‘I mean’ he explains, ‘It’s not contraband or anything. It isn’t sharp, and it has no electrical cords. He probably thought it would make me want to be the Joker again.’  
‘Well, does it?’ You can’t help but sound a little apprehensive.  
‘No? I just enjoy the way it looks.’ He gives it back to you. ‘Come on, help me out.’  
‘I...’ when he pushes his lips like that you’re not really thinking about lipstick. ‘You...’  
‘I don’t have a mirror here, please?’

You lean in and focus in the task at hand. His bottom lip twitches when it comes in contact with the red bar. Maybe he wanted the therapist’s lipstick, but he wants you to apply it. The only problem is you don’t really know how to. Are you applying too mush pressure? You get some on his skin and brush it off with your thumb. You take a step back and contemplate your work. 

‘So how do I look?’  
‘Amazing’ You grab his hand and wrap his fingers around the damn tube.  
‘I guess I’ll take your word for it.’ You breathe at ease. It isn’t terribly applied, but it’s just the tiniest bit smudged in the left corner ‘Wait, no.’ He pulls out his camera, and it makes you wonder how many rolls does he have. ‘I have been working on my angles.’  
There is a flash, and then the picture is revealing. He examines it. He’s winking and you look apologetic.

‘You really don’t do this often.’  
‘Hey!’  
Before you can defend yourself, he’s stamping a kiss on your cheek, which makes you shut up. Without missing a beat, he snaps a picture of you.  
‘What are you doing?’  
‘Now’ he shakes the picture and presses it on your chest, inviting you to take it. ‘You can show this to whoever got you all dressed up tonight.’  
For 4,28 seconds you toy with the idea of John being jealous. That’s 4,28 seconds too long.  
‘Now you have to go.’ He says, and he is smiling. It’s a step up from last night, and you allow yourself to think about it as progress.  
‘Of course, I wouldn’t want you to lose your sleep over me. ’ You laugh.  
‘As if the mice and the barely existent covers weren’t enough’

He gets up and walks the four steps to the door with you. As you say goodbye, you take off your jacket and throw it around his shoulders. He’s speechless for a second and then playfully punches your shoulder.

You feel light as you make your way back to the main hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man, i am so tired and i had to look up 'list of feelings' because apparently i don't know emough emotions to write. who would have known hysteria and rage wouldn't cut it? buut i felt so good writing this, and i hope you feel good reading it. maybe will proofread it tomorrow.


	8. bats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet some therapists and get another perspective on bats.

You stare at the mirror. You like the way the red looks on your cheekbone. You remember the fleeting feeling of his lips pressing on your skin. Colour. It’s not like you are a fan of bright colours, but you can get the attractive. You don’t think you have a clothing item that isn’t black or white, or maybe grey though. No, now that you think about it, you have a blue suit. 

You wake up to some weird warmth on your face, just to discover you forgot to close the blinders last night. You can’t help but to think it wouldn’t all seem so hopeless if John was here. But you shouldn’t entertain yourself with that kind of thoughts. Even if you get his release, what tells you he’ll be happy to crash at your place? It’s too early, anyway, so you allow yourself to think of his slender form laying next to you. Would he snore? Talk in his sleep? You get up and go through your routine, check your phone. Some article about how you’ve taken to supervising your donations to Arkham, with a picture of you leaving yesternight without your jacket. You are glad it was too dark to actually see the lipstick mark. The director refused to comment and that puts you at ease. You have two voicemails. The first is Tiffany’s, apologising for being distant and giving you a summary of her project in Wayne Tech, the second is John’s.  
‘Hey, Bruce! I guess I just missed you.’ He laughs. ‘Okay, well. You must have a busy schedule. I hope this is okay, me calling you. I just made something for you today. In the art hour. Would you... would you like to see it? By the way, thanks for your jacket.’ You could swear he sounds flustered as he hangs up.

When you arrive at the asylum, the receptionist tells you John is in his room, and offers to call him. You say you can go there instead, and wonder whether you should have told him you were coming, but he was the one that called you. You are making your way through the halls when you hear your name, and turn to see a woman walking to you. 

‘Matt told me he gave you the lipstick I...’  
‘You’re Sandy?’ You don’t know what did you expect. You expected someone different. Maybe taller. Kind of more threatening. Someone that resembled Harley.   
‘Nice to meet you, Bruce.’ The short, tanned woman in front of you seems inoffensive.  
‘It’s my pleasure’ You manage. ‘I did give it to John.’  
‘I’m so glad to hear that. Like, I think he’s trying to work on his sense of identity, and makeup can sometimes help with it. Are you here to see him?’  
‘Yes.’  
‘Alright, I won’t hold you any longer.’

She walks away, and you think for a moment on what she said. Figuring your identity out. You know he doesn’t remember the time before the asylum. John Doe. He seemed to like the name. Then, he liked Joker. What is _your_ identity, anyway? You’re Batman. You are not Batman. You are Bruce Wayne. You are at his room already, and knock on the open door.

‘Hello, Bruce.’ He smiles, doesn’t seem surprised to see you. He is wearing his your jacket, which makes him look adorable.  
‘Hey.’ You walk in, vaguely wondering where is the book he was reading the last time you were there.  
‘I bet you’d come. I wasn’t sure, you know, but I did the first word trick, and it was a yes.’

You smile, as he stands up and rants a little about how you can predict the future by randomly opening a book and choosing a word, so the last letter of the word has an even place in the alphabet, like ‘b, d, e’ it’s a no, unless it’s Sunday. And if it’s an odd letter it means yes. Of course, Sunday excluded. For a moment you wonder where he heard that. Then you hug him. 

‘What was the word?’ You ask, still not letting go.   
‘It was... ah...’ He laughs nervously, hugging back. ‘It was _game_.’  
You let him go, and he turns to the drawers on his desk, pulling out a drawing of a bat.   
‘I’m not sure if you’re really done being... you know who, but today I read a book about a bat, and I made this for you.’  
‘Thank you’ you take it, seeing a pinkish white bat drawn in childlike traces. You hadn’t really considered white bats. Would they scare kids? Criminals? Anyone at all? ‘I’m glad to hear there is something you enjoy doing here.’  
‘As if. I just liked the book. And like you.’ he stopped, and added ‘Sometimes’.  
‘Alright, I’m sorry for wanting to think you weren’t having a bad time.’   
‘I’m not. Not constantly. I just want to go out there.’ He runs his fingers through his hair and raises his head to eye the window.  
‘Okay.’ The sight of his wishful frown is too much to take. ‘We can do that. Tomorrow, or later today. What do you want to do?’  
‘Really?’ He stares at you, his face unreadable, his eyes expectant. Does he think this is a practical joke?  
‘Yes. Sure. What do you want?’  
‘Puppies. No, candy floss. No, swings. Man, you’re freaking him out.’ He seems to consider it and then turns to you. ‘Am I freaking you out?’  
‘No.’ You wish it sounded less like a question. ‘I mean, not really. I think we can get those three.’

You didn’t really think the director would let you go out right that moment. He briefly consulted with the psychiatrist in charge of the wing and his personal therapist, and ended up saying he had to be back for dinner and you should got him some regular clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the short chapters are back. context -i type for a living.  
> the summary sucked and i wanted to do more for the chapter itself.


	9. stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of things John hasn't done. You can't help but find his wonder adorable, albeit a little worrying at times. Would the media think the same?

It would seem John can’t put distance between him and the asylum fast enough. Not that you blame him for jumping into the car as soon as you unlock the door. 

‘Thank you thank you thank you’ John says as you speed away from Arkham.  
‘It’s okay. It can be good to be in that place for too long.’ You give him a look ‘Seatbelt.’  
He looks at you, and then just raises his arms. Does he really expects you to do his seatbelt? It’s not like it’s really hard, but you don’t mind getting it. He hums happily.

You park on a nearby mall and you ask if he wants to stay in the car as you get him clothes. He thinks about it, and nods. As you exit the car, saying you won’t be long, he grabs your hand.  
‘Can you get something with stars?’

You leave after showing him how to use the audio system. Something with stars. That is a weird request, but you remind yourself of the thing the shrink said about identity, so you decide to try and find something like that. You end up getting a black shirt with stars around the collar and red joggers, since you don’t know what size he’d be. On your way out, you grab some star stickers as a joke.

When you go back, you find him still strapped to his seat, laughing uncontrollably . He managed to tune into some news station and they’re doing a story on random teens trying the splits for online fame, or something like that.

You step out while he gets dressed, and take the moment to check on Avesta and the market research she is working on for some subsidiary. You hear John getting down and tell her you’ll call her later.

‘Is it an important call? You didn’t have to hang up. What is brand awareness?’  
‘It’s the extent to which people know a brand. No, it was just some analysis from Avesta.’  
‘Avesta.’ He scrunches his nose, and you take a look at him, noticing the stickers on his cheeks. That shouldn’t make you think about kissing him, right?  
‘She’s no longer with the Agency.’  
‘Come on.’ He grabs your hand and drags you back into the car, seemingly forgetting about Avesta.  
‘So, why dogs?’  
‘I just read a book about a dog. And I have never really seen one.’

You want to say something about it, you want to hug him. Instead, you lean over and do his seatbelt. Your next stop is an animal shelter. As you help him down, you realise he’s still wearing his plain black hospital shoes. You don’t mention it.

‘Good evening, mister Wayne.’ A man in his late twenties leads you into the building, after giving John a look. He seems unsure as to what to do, and ends up leaving you to the cages, saying you just have to call him when you decide which dog you want to walk. As soon as he steps out, John dashes towards a retriever, and then it occurs to you he did notice the way the employee, Mark; by his badge, felt around him. It makes you angry. It lasts about ten seconds, and then you hear John yelp at the dog licking his hand enthusiastically. He slides his slim arms through the bars and hugs it. He turns his head when he hears a small terrier mix bark and walks over to pet it. You see him going through the cages, taking a step back, seemingly surprised by the size of a mastiff, but getting over it and getting close enough for it to press its wet nose to his face, which makes him gasp. His enthusiasm is captivating, and you walk over to him.

‘Bruce! Look at them, I think I love them.’

You’re about to say something, when you hear meowing coming from another cage. You walk over there to see three kittens play fighting over a paper bag. John seems surprised, and it makes you wonder if he’s seen cats that close before. However, his attention is diverted by a dachshund, whining for attention. He crouches to pet it and turns to you.

‘Can we really take one for a walk?’  
‘Yes, do you want to take this one?’

He seems to think of it, and then nods. You leave him there, petting some other dogs while you get the keys and a leash. You open the cage and, before you can get the leash on the dog, John picks it up like a baby.  
‘Look, he’s so friendly!’

You cross the street and make it to a park. The sun is setting and most kids are already going home. As you take one of the roads walking next to John, who can’t stop smiling at the dog softly tugging the leash on his hand, it feels like a win.

‘Bruce.’ He leans on your shoulder. ‘We are walking a _dog_ on a _park_.’  
‘Yes. I guess we are.’  
‘Come on, it’s so weird. It’s more like something people on the telly do.’  
‘I don’t mind doing it in real life.’  
‘No, of course not. It’s just pretty weird.’

You think about that. Is it weird? He doesn’t have any memory before the asylum, and then he joined a criminal group and decided to woo a brutal psycho. He went to a funeral to meet with Bruce Wayne. He helped Batman, kidnapped the leader of the Agency and ended up almost falling into a chemical bath. But walking on a park is weird. That’s not nearly as surprising as how a part of you understands what he means. You think about it for a moment, and hold his free hand in yours.  
He raises your joined hands, contemplating them together, and laughs excitedly. 

‘I’m sure we can find some candy floss on that stand.’

He looks at you, as if he was surprised you remembered, but says nothing. He squeezes your hand a little and you make your way there in a comfortable silence. You’re really holding hands with John Doe in the park, walking a dog and getting sweets. The thought is not as unsettling as it should be, and seeing him smile takes your mind off the strangeness of it. His hand feels comfortable in yours, feels right. You get him the candy floss and a soft drink for you. You manage not to laugh when you see him tear some off and put it in his mouth. He seems shocked by the sweetness and the way it disappears. He looks at you confused, and you can’t contain a small laughter this time.

‘That’s unfair!’ he complains, but he’s smiling.  
You sit on a bench, with the dog on his lap.  
‘How does this disappear once you start to eat it?’  
‘It’s magic’ you say with a straight face. He thinks about it, and then realises you’re messing with him. ‘But if you really want to know, it’s because your mouth is humid, and it dissolves on water.’  
‘My mouth is not humid! Man, couldn’t you just say wet?’  
‘Wet doesn’t sound any better, at least with humid you know it’s a technical term.’  
‘Technical term? You don’t know if my mouth is wet at all, so that’s a hypothesis at best.’

You try not to think about anything the inside of his mouth may be, and go back and forth with him on your wording, and then the thirty minutes are about to end, so you make your way to the shelter.

You get back and meet the clerk, who smiles to see the dog back. Says you can spend some more time in the cages area. This makes John smile so hard it unsettles you for a moment, but it’s gone before you can really think about it. He goes back to see the rest of the animals, and you stay for a moment, thinking about questioning the man about his apparent change of heart, when you hear John calling you. 

You get up to him, and you can see he is confused by the ferret in front of him. An albino too, by the looks of it. It’s not like you expected to see one there, but you guess someone thought it would be a good pet and then changed their mind.

‘That... is that a, like, cat?’

Before you can answer, he leans in, sliding his fingers inside the cage. You put a hand on his shoulder, you don’t know a lot about ferrets, but you know they bite. This one seems playful, though, chirping and just nipping at his fingertips.

‘So you found Flip.’  
You turn around, and John withdraws his hand, seemingly still uneasy around the clerk.  
‘I have to apologise. I love these animals and was uneasy to let you in, but I can recognise my mistakes. I mean, they really seem to like you.’  
John seems hurt for a moment, but then smiles ‘Thank you. What kind of cat is he?’

Mark lets out a hearty laugh, explaining it’s a she, and not a cat. You tell him that’s a ferret, which seems to confuse him more. The clerk opens the cage and hands it over to John, who seems overjoyed. He sits on the floor and lets Flip jump around, playing with him. He turns to you, holding its face right under his chin.

‘Can you please take a picture of this animal?’

You smile, and take out your phone, snapping a photo of them. He gets up, and tries to hand you the ferret. You hesitate. It’s not like you can help it, for what you know, ferrets may be feral and they smell, even though you haven’t really notices any particular smell around this one. You finally take it from him, and he snatches your phone from your hand, taking a selfie. You roll your eyes, but smile. You thank Mark, leave Flip back on the cage and leave. It’s already six, and you make it over to the swings in the park.

‘What does it feel like?’  
‘What?’ You really are clueless. Is he talking about this whole outing?  
‘Being on a swing. Like, is it like falling? Flying?’  
‘You can find out yourself’ You nod to the swingset in front of you.  
‘Well, yes. I just want to know what to expect.’  
It just hits you then that he might be scared. You get that idea off your mind and think about a way to explain it.  
‘It’s like,’ you don’t really know what to say. You don’t really do that. You think about what using your grappling gun is like. ‘It’s like being suspended mid air. And speed. It’s fun, just try it.’  
He looks at you and then gets on the seat. ‘You **have** to stop if I ask you to, okay?’  
The way he is nervous about something like this is at the same time concerning and endearing.  
‘Okay.’

You stand behind him, see his hands clutching the chains. You give him a gentle push. You keep it slow, and see him relax.  
‘Is this okay?’  
‘Yes.’ He whispers.  
‘Do you want to go faster?’  
‘Yes!’

You start gradually increasing the impulse, and he laughs.  
After about a minute, he turns to you. ‘Okay, okay, stop.’  
Without thinking, you grab the seat and him, stopping it immediately, which makes him let out a small cry.  
‘Sorry, I though...’  
‘You thought I was scared. That’s sweet.’ He laughs.  
‘Well, you were.’ You sit on the spare swing.  
‘Yeah, not anymore.’ He impulses himself softly. ‘This is amazing.’

As you walk with him back to your car, you wonder if the hollowness in your chest is going to get heavier every time you have to drive him to the asylum. You’re pulled from it by a flash and at least six reporters coming between your car and you.

‘Mister Wayne?’  
‘Our sources say you have ben visiting John Doe everyday.’  
‘Are you aware this man is a dangerous criminal?’  
‘Mister Wayne!’  
‘Did you have anything to do with his actions before he went back to Arkham?’

You dull out the white noise, used to it by now, but feel John tensing next to you.  
‘I’m not commenting on this right now.’ You say, in the foolish hope that leads them away. They take a step closer, and you feel John is getting more uncomfortable by the moment, surrounded by cameras and recorders. You grab his hand and push your way through them. As you start driving away, you manoeuvre as if reversing against the reporters to see them push each other to get out of the way, in some kind of petty game that you know will not benefit you at all. It gets a tense laugh out of John, though. He reaches for his seatbelt, but you give him a smile and get it for him. He sighs.

‘I’m sorry.’  
‘What on earth for?’  
‘The reporters?’  
‘John, I’m Bruce Wayne. I can’t really go for a week without running into some. I am sorry, though, should have thought about it before going in public like that.’  
‘I wanted to play in the swings.’  
‘Well, I could have had a set installed in the manor.’  
He seems incredulous at that. ‘I don’t know what to say, but you have nothing to apologise for. I hadn’t had this much fun in ages.’  
‘Then we can forget about the press.’

You print out the pictures you took today, so John can add them to his album. He seems reassured. You park and turn to him, noticing somewhere between the dogs licking at his face and the incident with the reporters he lost the sticker on his left cheekbone. You take the sheet from the dashboard and, without saying anything, replace it with a new one. He checks it out in the rearview mirror, and winks at you, before getting his clothes and stepping out. When you join him outside, he seems indecisive about something.

‘I know I should have given your jacket back by now but...’  
‘What?’  
‘The jacket you gave me. I said it was cold at night, and...’  
‘I don’t really want it back. Like, at all.’  
‘You mean I can keep it?’  
‘Sure, if you want.’  
‘Thank you. For like, everything.’  
‘You don’t have to thank me. I had fun today too, you know.’

He gives you a loose hug. You can’t hide your face on the crane of his neck now, you’re gazing directly into his eyes. You are sure you’re going to kiss him, and you think you should say something before you do. Then, you detect movement at the entrance or the carpark, and pull away when you recognise two of the reporters from the park. You drag John back into the Asylum.

‘You both look like you saw a spirit.’ Erin just gives you a once over and gets back to her book. ‘How was the excursion, then?’  
You can’t really find words, so you’re glad when John beams up. ‘It was amazing. I saw a ferret.’  
‘A ferret.’ She takes a look at her computer. ‘I don’t know who did what, but there are four... five reporters outside. I’d recommend saying your goodbyes now.’

You give John a small smile, and he hugs you tight. You see him go, and step outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the record, i can see this happening because i didn’t know what a ferret was until i was about twelve? shoutout barty crouch jr? so yeah. i knew at least 50 different snakes, but not ferrets. and i wanted to have some weird animal in the shelter. i googled it and got cows, snakes and ferrets. cows scare me and snakes sounded too out there, so ferrets.


	10. alfred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You should have seen this coming.

You should have seen this coming. You can’t really breath in someone’s particular direction without some tabloid having a field day. You should have seen this coming, but you hadn’t had it in you to worry about it yesterday. You had pushed it aside, thinking it would be on some online newspaper or something like that. Some sensationalist rag. Not in the Gotham Gazette. You hadn’t really thought Alfred would find out like this.

Alas. You wake up to a voicemail saying he knows you’re still asleep and saying you could work on your sleep schedule now that you’re not Batman. Then, his tone changes as he tells you to call him when you can. You had agreed it’d be better for him not to call unless it was an emergency. Is this really that disastrous? You’re just visiting a friend in a hospital. You know that’s not true. John Doe is a _killer_ , and he is _criminally insane_ , and the way you were photographed yesterday doesn’t do much for your ‘friends’ approach. You take a breath, thankful now Al asked you to call. The phone rings two times, and then he picks up.

‘Master Bruce.’  
‘Hey, Al.’  
‘I don’t mean to be blunt, Bruce, but would you mind if I ask, what are you doing?’  
‘I...’ you sigh. You don’t really know what to say. It feels as if you don’t have enough time to think of the right answer.  
‘What business has John Doe walking dogs in the park with you?’  
‘He... we’re friends.’  
‘Friends? Tell that to someone that hasn’t patched you up after he’s left you all black and blue.’ He seems incredulous. You need him to believe you, because if he won’t, there’s nobody that possible could.

‘I am changing. I’m trying to find another way to go about things. You were right, I was wrong manipulating a man like him for my own purposes, I could have stopped it, taken him away from the Pact altogether, but maybe I can still set this right.’  
‘And what has he to say about this?’  
‘He was... happy to see me.’  
‘After everything that went down?’  
‘Yes. I don’t think he stopped thinking of me as a friend. Not did I.’  
‘Oh, heavens.’ He doesn’t sound fazed.   
‘He seems really miserable there, Al. And it doesn’t seem fair.’  
‘Fair?’   
‘I get to stop being Batman, you know. I just walked away and I have another life. Tiffany will never answer for murdering the Riddler. I was even able to cut Selina a deal with Waller. We were all involved. We took down the Pact. Now he’s in Arkham.’  
‘Well,’ Alfred seems to think for a moment. ‘For all the changing you seem to be doing, I’ll say you still have the same type.’

The implications make your reply disappear on your lips.  
‘That’s not...’  
‘If I were you, I’d save it for the reporters, master Bruce.’ His teasing tone you reassures you. He probably doesn’t understand what you’re doing. You don’t understand yourself, but he’s willing to trust you on this.  
‘I don’t like him because... because of his criminal past.’  
‘But you like him, and he has a criminal past.’  
‘It’s kind of hard not to like him.’ You say, despite yourself.  
‘Ah, this is what miss Kyle meant when she talked about your adorable chivalry.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short update because i just moved to spite my ex landlord and my life blows, but i'm doing fine //smiles in sleep deprivation.


	11. regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has every right to feel insecure in this situation, right? But what about you?

Getting into your car and heading to Arkham is now natural. For a moment, you wonder if John saw the newspaper. Then, you remember what he said about being isolated from the real world. What if he heard about it? He has proved to be nothing but resourceful.

This time, there is a guy on the frontdesk, and momentarily you wonder where’s Erin. He seems a little reticent about letting you go in, is it because of the news coverage? You assume the public can’t be too happy with the asylum board allowing a criminal to go out to hang out with Bruce Wayne. Well, they have proved to be wrong about you and about Batman; you know how easily their opinions can be swayed.

You stay in the threshold without knocking this time. John is on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Or would be, if he didn’t have your jacket covering his head and upper chest. 

‘John?’

He throws the jacket off, but doesn’t sit up. You decide to take it as an invitation to go in. You crouch next to the bed, staring at his pale face and unruly hair. You totally don’t notice how it’s grown at least an inch. 

‘Don’t come that close, you’ll get the flu.’  
‘The _flu_?’  
‘That’s what I’ve said so they’d let me skip the education hour. Please don’t blow my cover.’  
‘What’s wrong?’

He sighs, and finally turns a little to look at you. You just know he’s heard about the articles about you two yesterday. 

‘Why are you here, Bruce?’  
‘You know why I’m here.’ You’re dodging the question like a coward. Like you didn’t really want him to know. Like you couldn’t say it out loud. You are pretty sure you can.  
‘No, I don’t know. I honestly have no idea, while I can’t stop thinking about reasons why you wouldn’t be, so I’ve got to ask, why?’  
‘John.’  
‘I thought I knew, you know.’ He laughs, and it’s an empty sound.  
‘We _are_ friends.’  
‘You are friends with a lot of people.’ You give him a look. ‘Or could be.’  
‘I like being your friend. I like being here. I am here because I like this.’  
‘You are so stubborn.’

Stubborn? You think about it, and it makes sense. You know you are stubborn, but you don’t get why it has something to do with the matter at hand. It probably doesn’t, he just wants... he just wants what?

‘What do you want me to say?’  
‘What? What I want you to say?’ he sits up ‘I want you to say this is not just some sort of absolution ritual. I want to believe you would still be around if I wasn’t in Arkham. When you say we’re friends sometimes it’s almost like you were reading a sentence. I want you to say I know you like me, if you do; or not hear it at all.’

He seems to rue saying that last part out loud. You know you should mind the way he said it, you should understand why he feels put off. You can’t. 

‘What about me?’ You say. ‘Am I to believe you’d still like me if I couldn’t get you out of here? If I had no influence at all on the director?’  
‘Now you are really being a prick, you know.’

His voice is strained, and you know you are being unfair. John was there when you were a patient, when you were a member of the Pact, when you were Batman. You are being unfair, and it feels good. It shouldn’t feel this good to spit back some of the same kind of doubt he’s riddling you with. A park of your mind says it’s not unfair, it’s a reasonable question. A reasonable question. You stare at each other. When you talk this time, you mind your tone, knowing you were almost too loud before.

‘John,’ you take a breath. ‘I like you. And I like being here. I honestly don’t know how to explain it.’  
‘You don’t regret being my friend?’   
He sounds small. You think about how you do sometimes, about how you want to be more. You think about saying you would never regret it. It all seems inadequate. 

‘I don’t think there is a thing in my life I don’t regret.’   
John laughs at that, his anger seemingly forgotten. You look at him.  
‘What?’  
‘There you go again. You are so fucking dramatic sometimes.’  
‘I am not dramatic.’  
‘Yeah, because a cape and the whole bat act isn’t dramatic.’ He whispers, leaning in. ‘You know I like you, Bruce. You’re maybe the only real friend I’ve had.’

You’re finding hard to focus on the annoying doubts from just a second ago. You know, objectively, that he came closer so nobody could hear the way he talked about Batman, but you are too busy to worry about it, staring into the acid green of his eyes. 

‘Bruce’ he stands up, throwing your jacket on his shoulders. ‘Come on. I’m sorry I said those things, buddy. The doctors say it’s only natural it’s hard for me to control it.’

Control it. Something inside him. You have seen it, spilling out, when he helped you take Waller’s assets out. And he has to find a way to live without letting it live through him. It’s not really different from the way you’re finding a way to live without being Batman. You stand up too.

‘Hey, do you want to watch a movie?’   
‘Like, today?’ You’re surprised by the change of subject.  
‘Yep. We have recreational therapy soon, and I heard they are playing some film about a girl that dies.’  
‘What?’ Is that really what people should play on a hospital for the criminally insane?  
‘Don’t make that face. It’s about her friends and family, she dies in the end, and she doesn’t get shot or anything.’

You smile and can’t help it anymore, you tangle your right hand on his hair, wrapping your free arm around his shoulders, and hugging him as if you were scared he’ll just go away. He hugs back, hides his face on your chest.

‘The film sounds like a drag.’ You say into his neck.  
‘It _is_ a drag’ he mutters into your shirt. ‘But it won’t suck that much if you’re there.’  
‘Okay’ You pull apart and make for the door. ‘Let’s watch a girl die.’

John laughs and joins you on the hall. There’s a rebel stand of hair falling on his face, and you try to get it off. The way he pulls away with a quick ‘Hands off’ surprises you. It’s a little hurtful and, more than anything, confusing.

‘Sorry, man. We have some no contact rule. It’s not like they’re always watching, but I don’t want to fuck this up.’  
‘No contact rule?’  
‘We’re not supposed to have physical contact with other inmates, unless we’re playing something, or stuff like that.’ He wrings his hands together. ‘I’m not sure about what are the rules for visitors outside of the visitation area or like, the dorms, but I’m not risking it.’

As he explains it, you feel terrible about it. Then, he smiles at you. You remember how he leaned into you last time you were out, and how he held your hands. What are those rules about?

The movie is a drag. Not that you care, you spend it stealing glances at John and discussing with him some scenes under your breath. However, you can't help but feel disgruntled when she dies. Or when you have to leave John again, in that building with no-contact rules and thin blankets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y a a a y !   
> i had this earlier than i expected to. idk, i'm loving my new flat, so it makes writing easier, but the furniture won't get here until wednesday //my dudes  
> this is as angsty as i can get, i think. so yes, sorry my angst sucks.


	12. wet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is going out in public after what went down last time as bad of an idea as it seems? You can't seem to care. John? What does John think about it all?

The director was reluctant about letting John out, after what happened last time. However, as you mentioned, the news are already out. The editorials, the pictures, the theories. Backing out now wouldn’t really fix anything. You check with John twice, to make sure he understands the risks. He just laughs and waves you away.

The director sighs, and then takes you outside, while John stays with the new head of psychiatry, doctor Lianne Alineva. It just makes you nervous because she seems way less impressed by John’s kind demeanour than doctor Leland. You’re too busy right now to think about it, with the director looking at you like he was considering getting you on a cell next to John’s. You’re way past caring, though. You don’t have your obligations as Batman and, thanks to the paparazzi, everyone knows you like going out with John Doe. Alfred isn’t freaking out about it, what’s left to fear?

‘Mister Wayne.’ The man, in his late thirties, sounds tired. ‘I am not John Doe’s therapist. Hell, I’m not even head of psychiatry, but I have to ask, what is the purpose of this?’  
‘He said he misses seeing the stars.’ You answer simply.  
‘It’s really not usual to let an inmate out for a night with someone that isn’t family.’ He rubs the bridge of his nose. ‘Every reporter on the city would fight the commissioner for the opportunity to take my head if he was to escape.’  
‘He won’t’ you say. ‘John isn’t a bad man.’  
‘I know he’s not.’ This gets you to look at him. ‘What? Do you think I’m dumb and blind? Or do you think he’s playing me?’  
‘N-no’  
‘Your friend isn’t a bad person, but he is criminally insane.’  
‘He is...’  
‘Don’t even try to dispute that. That’s the only reason he’s here and not in Blackgate. I’ve scored some of his screenings, but there’s nothing definitive yet. Like, probably BPD, some kind of dissociative identity disorder maybe. You can see some schizoaffective traits, but he’s not delusional, right?’  
‘Right’ you say, just to agree.  
‘And then, of course, we have some heavy PTSD’  
‘As in, because of trauma?’ That gets your attention. ‘You mean, when... when Batman brought him in?’  
‘Brought him in, I see you’re into euphemisms. Well, I wasn’t talking about that. It’s just that, the way he can’t remember a lot of things is a good reason to suspect trauma.’ He looks at you strangely. ‘He doesn’t talk a lot about that night, you know.’  
‘Well, can you blame him?’ You try not to sound defensive.  
‘No, I guess we can’t.’ He seems lost in thought ‘Alright, now back to how you can help keep my head on my shoulders. You’re leaving at eight, in a few minutes. You _have_ to be back by eight.’  
‘We haven’t been late yet, you know.’  
‘I know. And I know men like you can get carried away because they think they can buy anything they want. Now, I can be lenient, but I’ll have to call the commissioner if you’re not back by then.’

For a moment you wonder how much does he really know about men like you. He goes over how you’ll have to answer the phone at eleven thirty and then at seven, and if you don’t, the authorities will be alerted. You frown. Is he this put off because of the time you’ll be out or because of the media coverage it could attract? As he wraps it up, you remember the way he phrased something.

‘I don’t think I can buy John, doctor’.  
‘Yeah?’ He seems to remember his previous sentence. ‘Oh, you haven’t read that article. It compared you to old time Sires favouring a bouffon.’  
You give him a stare, ‘It’s not like that.’  
‘I’m not saying it is, but whatever it is, it’s front page material.’

Is that what this is about? Before you can get a retort, the door opens, and off comes John, looking circumspect. The doctors say their goodbyes, and you make your way into your car.

‘Did you get diner at the asylum?’ you ask, after getting his seatbelt and starting the car.  
‘Yes, I grabbed a scone.’  
This time, when you comb back the persistent strand of hair that keeps falling on his face, he presses into your hand. The gesture makes you want to stop your car and kiss him.  
‘So your diner was one scone?’ You ask, to say something.  
‘I wasn’t really hungry.’  
‘And now?’  
‘Now...’ he looks at you, and doesn’t finish the sentence. You wonder if he really dislikes asylum food that much. You decide to stop for food anyway. You’re dressed as a random passerby and John is wearing a teal shirt with dark jeans, which you got him before taking him out. He also has star stickers over his brows. You park at a cafe and get a table with him.

He seems rather shy so you get your orders while he waits on the table.

‘Are you alright? You have been kind of spaced out’.  
‘Yes, I’m fine.’ He takes a sip from his frappe, and pulls out three polaroids. ‘But look at these. I took them like two days ago.’

You take the pictures that are, unsurprisingly, depicting birds. One of them was caught midflight, and you smile, thinking about him waiting and watching the sky. You stare at John until he lowers his gaze. You’re starting to worry. 

‘I think you’re a great photographer. How are you feeling at the asylum?’  
‘It’s an asylum, you know.’

You think you preferred it when he was voicing his concerns, however hectic that may have been. You wish he screamed at you or something. You drink your tea and hum. Your phone vibrates, another reminder of the press conference the board keep urging you to have about your relationship with John. You put it back on your pocket without replying.

‘Was it that agent again?’ He focuses on the lemon cheesecake he got with the drink.  
‘I’ll tell you if you tell me what’s bothering you.’

He looks at you and reaches for your hand across the table.

‘You’re being really good to me, and I really appreciate it. It’s just that I have to remember this is the rea world.’  
‘What do you mean?’  
‘Even if you’re not here because you feel guilty, you’re still a philanthropist, and I am still a murderer. And you have tons of things to do. And I don’t really do much. And it can’t really be good for you to be seen with me.’  
‘You know we’re much more similar than that. What is this all about, John? You know I like your company.’  
‘It’s just... some of the doctors think I may be getting ahead of myself.’  
‘How? By accepting you’re important to me?’ He lowers his gaze for a moment. ‘Look, I don’t really mind repeating it, but I would feel better if you believed it.’  
‘Thank you, Bruce.’ He smiles, and lets go of your hand. You stop yourself from taking him back. ‘So, tell me, was it Avesta?’  
‘No,’ you huff a laugh at his persistence. ‘The board at Wayne Enterprises wants me to give a press conference about my relationship with you.’ He frowns. ‘Hey, it’s going to be okay.’  
‘They hate me.’  
‘They used to hate me too.’

He laughs and you continue your meal talking about birds. You get up, happy you were able to reassure John. Still, you can’t help but wonder what good are any of the doctors doing. As far as you know, there wasn’t a record of him being committed to Arkham to begin with, so what was all that about? You get your mind off that. John gets another frappe for the road. When you make it past the cafe doors, John instinctively grips your hand, faced again by six reporters. You wish you had parked closer to the entrance. The flashing seems to upset John, you make a move to shield him, but it’s too late.

‘Why are you doing this?’ he takes a step towards the reporters. ‘You are awful.’

It only seems to attract them, and they direct their questions at him.

‘Joker, you brought the head of a paramilitary organization to confront her past in television, just to be stopped by Batman. Care to comment on that night?’  
‘Do you think you could have killed Batman?’  
‘Why do you think Amanda Waller denied killing the Riddler?’

You come in front of him, getting the focus on you. 

‘Mister Wayne! How would you describe...’  
‘You want a comment? I’ll give a press release tomorrow at Wayne Enterprises, you can ask your questions there.’  
‘What does the board know about this?’  
‘Why are you so interested in defending this man?’

You debate just going through them, or making your car drive in. You maybe should just go back to the cafe. You don’t.

‘Why am interested? Why are _you_ so interested in whatever we do? We are just getting dinner like every Gothamite is allowed to do. We are not breaking any law. Haven’t you had enough covering my parents crimes and the Penguin taking over my company? Why don’t you go find Batman beating some crook and write about it?’  
‘We haven’t seen Batman in ages.’ He turns to John. ‘Would you have any insight on that?’  
John, shakes his head, you grab his hand and start walking towards your car.  
‘Can you just leave him alone?’ you have to scream to make yourself heard and a small crowd is gathering now. ‘You can get your answers from me, tomorrow.’ You can hear John’s nervous laughter behind you.  
‘Would you say you are dating John Doe?’  
‘So what if I did? Can a man not date whoever he pleases? It’s not like any of you waited for an answer before going on some feverish tirades on your editorials. John is a friend. One of the best I’ve had.’ You get to your car and jump in, before they have any chance to question your friends. 

‘Wow, Bruce, you really have a way with the media.’ John laughs.  
‘It’s all the practice.’ You smile. ‘I wanted to show them I don’t mind them shooting me with you. But I also wanted you to believe it.’

The trip to the manor is fast and, as you park inside the gates, you see three reporters through the fence. John smiles and flashes them the peace sign. You walk up to him and rest a hand on his shoulder.

‘Can you make this the frontpage?’ You ask, going along with John’s act, who’s now sticking his tongue out.  
‘What would you tell Gotham City about you dinning at a regular cafe tonight?’  
‘It was a good dinner.’ You can’t believe they’re still trying to get a story, but John seems to be having fun. ‘They should try the frappe John got.’ He waves his drink.  
‘So, you are on the top of eligible bachelors in this city and tonight you’re taking John Doe out, who is committed to the Arkham Asylum for the criminally insane. What are...’  
‘Look at him’ you lower your arm to his waist. ‘Do you really think he is a danger to anyone? When look at him I see a man that made some bad decisions on an unstable time on his life. I see a man that is recovering from a violent succession of events. He likes dogs. He likes photographing animals, he should get a second chance like anyone else.’

You take his hand, starting to walk towards the house. He stays for a moment, and you turn to look at him. He looks at you in awe, and throws his arms around your neck. And the thing is, it’s alright. Everything you told the reporters was right, John hugging you is right. Everything is right. Then he pulls back and stares at you, and then you are leaning in and kissing him.

It makes sense, doesn’t it? Not that you worry about making sense, as John lets out a surprised sound and melts into your touch. He opens his mouth as you run your tongue over his lips. His lips are soft against your mouth, still cold from the drink. It feels electrifying. You push into his mouth, feeling the heat around your tongue. You pull apart. You’re momentarily reminded of the reporters as they scream questions, but walk into the house without a second thought.

John looks at you and laughs nervously. 

‘What is that about?’  
‘You...’ he can’t contain his laughter, and it’s slightly putting you off. ‘I can’t believe you said that... I mean, your mouth is actually wet...’  
You remember your comment when he asked about candy floss, ad can’t help but laugh too.  
‘Oh, come on, that’s because of all the talking I just did.’

Your excuse doesn't stop you from joining his laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> actual r o m a n c e .  
> sorry about the long chapter, idk if it really makes sense bc i'm too tired to reread. i’m thinking about editing some out. ii wanted to cover a lot and i wanted to post it today?
> 
> i really wanted to have them stargazing on this chapter too, but i'm too tired. btw, thanks for 40 kudos (:


	13. red light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing John in your home has proved to be a whole experience. It makes it all more real, more intimate. Could this be the life?

You manage to regain your breath, leaning against a wall. You start taking in what just happened. You just kissed John full on. And he kissed you back. That has to mean something. He stops laughing and looks at you. You want to kiss him again but, when you lean in, he pushes past it, resting his chin on your shoulder, trapping you against the wall. 

‘Why did you do that?’ his voice sounds a little strained, and you hold his arms, in what you hope is a reassuring gesture.  
‘I wanted to do it.’ You say, simply. ‘Have wanted for a while.’  
He laughs.   
‘Why?’

You consider lying. Of course you do. You don’t really know why, though. So you can tell him you love him. He may freak out. What then? Could you blame it on guilt? He would believe it. But it would hurt him. Or would it?   
Apparently, you took to long to say anything, because he pulls away and makes it for the living room.

‘Wait.’ You grab his shoulder, and he gives you an annoyed look when you make him turn to face you. ‘I love you, John. I love you.’ That’s the thing about the truth. Once you hear it outloud, you find you like how it sounds. ‘I love you and I’m so incredibly sorry.’  
‘Sorry?’ He seems confused, but there’s a small smile on his mouth. ‘Love isn’t supposed to feel sorry.’  
‘I...’  
‘You are my friend, Bruce. Even if I wasn’t hopelessly heads over heels for you,’ he gives you a wink that makes you blush ‘you wouldn’t have to apologize for something like that.’ Did he really just say _head over heels_? ‘But you really mean it, right? You said it trice, you must.’  
‘Of course I do.’  
‘Could you say it again then?’ You see his pale skin turn pink around his cheekbones. ‘Sorry, I... I just really like how that sounds.’  
‘I love you.’ You let out a small laugh. ‘I love you. I love-’  
You can’t finish the sentence, as John kisses you lightly.   
‘I used to think about you saying it. I’d tell myself it was wrong, but it would be too enticing.’

You’re at the living, and he throws himself on the carpet, staring at the fireplace, even if not on. You think about that. <>emWrong .   
Is it wrong he feels that way about you? Are you enabling him? The word obsession tumbles around on your head.

‘What’s wrong, Bruce?’ He sounds genuinely worried. Even if you find yourself secondguessing this, you can’t let him know.  
‘You just really like the carpet, right?’  
‘It’s so soft. It should be illegal.’ He runs his hands through the surface. His hands. You are in no position to doubt him. He has no problem with you saying you love him. After everything that went down.   
‘Come on up,’ you extend a hand to him. ‘I remember you wanted to see stars?’

As you climb up the stairs, he slides his hand in yours, and looks at you as if gauging your reaction. You smile at him. When you make it to the terrace, he runs to the edge, seemingly amazed by the view.

‘Be careful, John.’  
‘I cannot help it!’ he laughs. ‘Hadn’t been this high since...’ he turns to you, and you know what he is thinking. Since that stand off with Waller. Since Ace Chemicals. ‘I’m sorry.’  
You pull him in on a hug.  
‘It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m going to kiss you now.’  
‘Yes?’  
‘Yes.’

You crash your mouths and it’s desperate and it’s right and it’s like you were trying to erase everything else. You pick him up, which makes him gasp into the kiss. You carry him to one of the ottomans. He seems to have forgotten about his previous train of thoughts when you pull apart. You hand him a pair of binoculars and turn off the red light.

’It’s so dark in here.’  
‘It’s about...’

You’re interrupted by your phone ringing. It’s already past eleven? It seems unfair. You sit next to John and feel him leaning against your shoulder. You answer the phone. No, everything is alright. Yes, you’re on your rooftop, it’s safe. Alright, you have to remember answering in the morning, yes you will. You hang up to find John sliding to the floor, having found the blankets. You wonder what does he have against couches, but you join him.

‘I don’t know any of their names.’ He seems a little frustrated.   
You have a star chart prepared, but it seems unfitting.   
‘Stars don’t really have names, you know.’ He lays back, his head on your crossed legs, and gives you an inquisitive stare. ‘They were there before someone decided they would give them a name, and will be still when we have forgotten it.’

He seems to accept the explanation, and starts making up names for constellations. Tower, albatross, syringe, star and more. You listen to him and try to make out the forms, running you fingers through his hair.

‘I like this,’ he yawns, ‘but if you keep at my hair like that, I’m going to fall asleep.’  
‘I think you should anyway. It’s getting late for you.’  
‘I don’t want to sleep. Tomorrow I’ll have to go back _there_ , and I’ll miss you terribly.’  
‘I’ll go see you, you know it.’   
‘It’s not the same.’ He sits up, and you unfold your legs, letting him recline on your chest. ‘Do you really love me?’  
‘Yes, I do.’  
‘Well, I love you too. And how can you bear the idea... I’m sorry. I’m just... oh, well.’   
‘It’s going to be okay. You can call me.’  
‘You’re probably right. But it doesn’t feel right.’ He lets his head fall back, and you kiss his temple.  
‘Come on now.’ You get him to stand and make it back inside. ‘I’ll get you to your room and tomorrow we’ll have some breakfast before you-’ he stops, and you turn to him. ‘Are you alright? You know I’m researching releases forms, right? I am getting you out.’  
‘I believe you. It’s just... I shouldn’t really be left unsupervised. This place has a lot of doors. And windows. And then...’  
‘I am sure you won’t be any problem, I trust you. I would...’ you see how he keeps his eyes on the floor. You realise he idn't really worried about escaping ‘Do you want to stay with me?’  
‘I would like that.’

He stays on the threshold of your bedroom for a moment, and you can’t help but to think of a vampire. You remember you didn’t get him a toothbrush, and apologize. He laughs, and says a night of poor dental hygiene won’t kill him. He gargles loudly with your mouthwash to make you laugh, and it feels somehow more intimate than kissing him. It feels domestic. This could be life. You could brush your teeth with John every night. You get him one of your pyjamas, and you don’t have to act like he doesn’t look endearing on it. He lets out a nervous laugh when you tell him about it. He takes the stickers off his face and tries to stick them on yours. 

When you get into bed it’s almost too much. You busy yourself setting the alarm so you won’t miss the morning call.

‘Bruce?’ You turn to see him staring at you. ‘I just wanted to say... I don’t know. If I could stay in this moment forever, it would be great.’  
You can’t think of a right answer to that, you reach for his hand. ‘We will figure this out.’  
He presses against you, resting his head on your chest. ‘Is this alright?’  
‘Yes.’

You wake up to John snoring softly, drooling on your chest. You feel him stir to the sound of the alarm. He seems confused by you, and sits up, rubbing his eyes. You reach for the alarm and turn it off, still laying down.

‘Bruce?’ Is this how his voice sounds every morning? ‘Oh, I remember. Thank you.’ He flops on your stomach. 

You carefully slide out, leaving him on a pillow. He probably isn’t used to staying up late. You start the coffee maker and take the phone call. Yes, he hasn’t escaped... Oh, what are they even talking about? _That_ picture? Yes, you know media is having at it. Well, there’s nothing you could have done. You didn’t break any rules, did you? But what were you thinking about? You remind the director his only concern is getting John back at the time set, and everything else is your problem. You’ll take care of it.

John enters the room as you get out the toast. He climbs on a cabinet. He looks happy, and you think he’s braving the farewell in a rather controlled way. You wonder if his contempt for couches extends to chairs, but don’t mention it. The breakfast goes by fast, with John commenting on the marmalade. You get him some of your clothes and get in your car. 

As you start it and do his seatbelt, he holds your hand.  
‘Yesterday I felt like a bird. Do you know what I mean?’  
‘I think I do. I know it’s not the same, but ever since I stopped being Batman I am starting to feel something like that. And it’s absence.’

You arrive at the asylum. John hugs you like he wasn’t going to let go, but does. Within five seconds. He wishes you luck in the conference, and then he is gone. Again in Arkham. And it’s not just the physical distance, it’s knowing the system decides when you get to see him. The director gives you a look, but says nothing. In your way out you see Erin, who winks at you. 

You make yourself stop thinking about it. You have to be Bruce Wayne, and assure everyone you haven’t lost your mind and you’re fit to direct your company. You'll convince him John Doe is a good person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> front page romance. centrefold romance. i wish i could edit the titles. i 
> 
> sorryyyy for the delay. life was a mess. it still is. i am not good at writing requited love, even though i love the idea of it. i am much better at pining and porn, so this is a shameless plug -haha get it- for the porn-ish batjokes onehshot i wrote instead of this chapter like two days ago. it's a different timeline though. still sweet because life is still hard enough
> 
> i'm getting better at writing requited love! so anyway, thanks for reading, i honestly hope you like ths.


	14. apple crumble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't remember if you have ever licked a batarang, but you're pretty sure it's different than having tinned fruit for lunch.

You make a mental list of stuff you like better than talking to reporters about your personal life. It starts with tea and ends with having a knife through your left arm. Alfred would say you’re dramatic. That makes you remember he’s coming back in a few days and cheers you up enough to smile while you greet them.

Saying it went smoothly wouldn’t really make sense, but it went as expected. You answered questions. Like, tons of them. This is not a psychotic break, John is not the way you’re responding to the pressure of the past few months but, then again, they could remember how they jumped to conclusions against you. Does this mean you have been gay all the time? Honestly, you hadn’t had time to think about that. What with the whole almost killed each other, asylum, possible PTSD thing. You guess you’re not. It’s not like you don’t like girls. This isn’t really influencing the effort you’re making in improving Arkham. You do think John is not a danger to others or himself anymore. And yes, you think he could lead a regular life if he was to be released. When he is released. You think Waller was a victim, but should take responsibility for her handling of the situation. You don’t know a lot about it, however, other than the information on the news, of course.

As soon as you get off, you decide to get Alfred something. It’s been weird not having him around. The journalists still have questions, and they always will. It doesn’t bother you, it’s part of their profession. You decide it’s not important, you’ve answered enough to reassure some of them. You think of getting him a firearm, but it wouldn’t suit your decision of letting that kind of life behind. You consider some luxury tea set, but he has one he’s rather fond of. You think of a briefcase for some reason, but it seems irrelevant. In the end, you settle for a pocket watch. 

You are picking the right watch when your phone rings. It’s from Arkham. You pick up, thinking it will be John, but it’s an orderly. Something happened and John is alright, but still should go. You’re still listed as his emergency contact. You can’t drive fast enough. You start thinking of the possibilities. Did he escape? Was it too much excitement for a night? Is he alright, is this about your declarations? 

You decide to contact your lawyer, just to be prepared. 

Being directed to the infirmary is not a good signal. When you get there and see John sitting on a bed in a hospital gown, you deicide ‘alright’ is a subjective concept. John jolts up when you enter, but says nothing. You face the guard in charge.

‘What happened?’  
‘You know, we thought it was under control...’  
‘ _What_ was under control?’   
‘Some patients have voiced their opinions on the attention John seems to get from you.’ A doctor you hadn’t seen before enters the room, extending her hand to you. ‘Doctor Gwyneth McKinsley, I’m in charge of all the physical maladies here.’ She has a strong grip. ‘Afraid I can’t do a lot about the rest.’  
‘Bruce...’  
‘I know who you are, just talked to your lawyer.’ She gives you a quick smile and turns to John. ‘And know who _you_ are.’

She points a light to John’s eyes and takes notes.   
‘So what happened?’ You turn to him, wanting to hear him say something. Anything.  
‘Some guy asked how hadn’t I made a run for it yet, and it all went downhill’. He laughs, but it sounds hollow.  
‘He’s got a superficial cut, which I’ve taken care of’ she points vaguely at some region on his thorax. ‘Also took a bad hit on the head, but there are not signs of cerebral trauma.’   
‘John...’ Your hand stops centimetres away from his face, all too conscious of the doctor still there.

She seems to take the cue, and gives you a look. She sighs, and says she’ll step outside for a moment. You sit on the bed and cup his face on your palm. He covers your hand with his.

‘I’m sorry, I...’  
‘I could have taken them out, you know?’ His eyes seem frantic, searching your face for something. You hope he finds it, because you know all too well he could have.  
‘You didn’t.’  
‘Heroes don’t kill?’ He gives you a shaky smile.

You put your arms around him, and when he kisses you, you can feel him shivering. You think you get it. Going from fighting his way out of anything into whatever this is has a toll. John did not fight back. You feel something on your face and when you pull away you see tears on his face.

‘It’s the freedom, you know. You remember it. And it seems like it was another life. Rules are alright, I guess, if...’ he takes a breath. ‘If they’re all you remember. You know what you’re expected to do. I just... I guess I really shouldn’t have talked doctor Leland into letting me out like that. You figure it out, or you think you did. And then...’

You hear a knock and straighten yourself, as he wipes his face with the covers. As Erin walks in, you’re relieved to see a familiar face, even when she seems as blasé as always. She gives John a look and throws a handkerchief on the bed.

‘So you’ll be fine according to Gwen. Word of advise? Act like you were dying, or they’ll withhold anaesthetics.’ She faces you. ‘Your lawyer wants to come in, and he has that bad guy look.’

You ask her to let him in as John twists the handkerchief on his hands, his desperation shifting to curiosity in a moment. She leaves.   
You know your lawyer doesn’t have a bad guy face. Still, you’re surprised when he starts explaining how this is a good thing. He explains you can now showcase the effects the stay on the asylum is having on John. As he emphasises there was no real reason for him to be there at first, or at least no paperwork that could back it up, you start understanding his approach. He leaves to prepare some paperwork and you stay. A nurse brings lunch on a tray, and he convinces you to feed it to him.

‘I am glad you didn’t kill them, you know?’   
‘Do you know what animal is smarter than a talking parrot?’   
‘... no?’  
‘A spelling bee.’  
You snort, and he looks pleased with himself.  
‘But really, John, I know this is hard on you and I want...’  
‘I think I wanted apple crumble, rather than peaches.’ He says, pulling away when you rise a second spoonful of the fruit to him. ‘It’s like licking a can.’  
‘When have you licked a can?’  
‘It’s like licking a batarang.’  
‘What?’

He laughs, and you can’t help but join him. He continues eating, after some bargaining. Should you like it? The way you are tending to him, and how he seems to enjoy it?

'Won't you finish the potatoes?'  
'I hate roasted potatoes.' he gives you a pleading look, as if you were asking him to take a dive on a shark tank.  
'Potatoes are good for you. A lot of... well, potato vitamins.'  
'Potato vitamins are a myth' he laughs. You both know he won't finish them. You put the tray aside. 'How did the press thing go?'  
'It went good. People always have a lot of questions.'  
'I just read a book about that.'  
'Yes?'  
'Yes. Some russian lady that got divorced, but it was somehow everyone's problem.'  
'I know that one. There's not gonna be any stepping in front of trains now.'  
'Not even a little? Just for fun?' he jokes.  
'This is fun.' You get a strand of hair behind his ear.  
'Oh, totally. Everyone loves lunchtime at the Asylum infirmary.'  
'I love having lunch with you.'

That shuts him up. You list the fastest trains you can remember. He talks a little more about what he's currently reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, short chapter, tired, dead. i hope you like it idk how to insert a heart on a small keyboard?


	15. other things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your love confession was a little too rushed. Everything has been, lately. You can only hope John can move past his doubts, now he's had the time to think about it.

You couldn’t stay as long as you’d have wanted. You say your goodbyes and then take your lawyer’s phone call. He is very technical, and you tune it off until you actually make sense of what he’s saying.

‘Parole?’

‘Think about the story you could spin. An unstable man needs help, but he’s kept on an asylum for the criminally insane, even when he’s got no criminal record. Sounds shady, right? Then, he gets released without having learnt any real life skills. Goes MIA for a few months. Next thing, he’s taking down a terrorist on a bridge. He has some kind of altercation with Ms Waller. Cue the psychotic break.’’

You remember that night. You remember him calling Harley the love of his life and can’t help a pang of jealously. Could he think about you like that? You wonder how your lawyer got all that information. You know that’s not how it happened. He must know it too, but he is making it work. You’re lucky Alfred destroyed the tape with you both and said ‘terrorist’.

‘So he broadcasting Waller’s abduction is...?’  
‘She had her people after him. Maybe she’ll want to go under oath about that? I’ve heard about The Wall, she’ll probably just want to make it disappear.’

You hear what he’s saying, but you don’t think you should press her. You didn’t end in the best of terms, and bringing John in made her let Selina go. You don’t want her to go back on that and hunt her down. You’ll have to think about it all, but there is a plan that makes sense, and it makes you feel better.

Next day, you decide not to mention it to John. However, you do bring it up with the director, seeing it is not really safe for John in there. He looks at you as if you were pushing splinters under his nails, but ultimately says you’ll get to a reasonable solution together. Reasonable. You wonder if he means it or he’s trying to placate you, like he would an overexcited patient. As you head for the door to see John, he tells you he’s on the yard. You decide to take that as a good sign and thank him. 

You head outside to see him reclined on a wall. It seems like a careless posture, but you can see the tension going through him. He’s pointing his camera to a grey bird, as if waiting for it to come closer. You take a step back, and just watch him. He’s wearing Arkham white clothes and your jacket. The way he slowly leans forward makes you think of a predator. It’s not an unsettling thought, you know John. It’s a good thing he’s wearing the jacket, it’s cold outside, and the wind tangles on his hair. It could use a cut, but you like how it looks. Seeing him so concentrated, you feel a little protective. And guilty. The walls are tall and it seems almost miraculous how birds fly around. You’re thankful they do, but it was you who put him inside those walls. You thought it was for the best. 

He snaps a picture and, as the camera prints it, the bird flies away. He gets a shot of it leaving and turns to you. You ignore how he caught you staring and walk over to him. 

‘You said four-ish’ he says, showing you the picture.  
‘It’s four-ish!’ you defend yourself. Now that he’s close you see red on his eyelids. Is that lipstick?  
‘It’s like ten to four.’ You start saying something ‘Doesn’t matter, I’m glad you’re here.’

Glad you’re here. When did you hear it like that from the last time? Alfred is usually glad you’re alive, Selina is glad you were around and got thrown into the death chamber instead of her, everyone is glad you showed up, you’re the man of the hour. This feels different. You’re glad he’s here, he’s smiling and you want to take him away from this place forever. His laugh doesn’t put you on guard anymore, you don’t understand how it could have. He is just a confused man, a man whose laugh gets you to join him and enjoys colours and likes to watch birds. You realise you would do a lot of things to make him happy. You’re already trying.

‘Buddy?’  
‘Yes, sorry, I was just thinking. So what was that bird?’  
‘A catbird.’ You follow him to a bench. ‘Now, talking about cats...’ he gives you a look.  
‘What?’ he’s dramatically squinting. ‘Is this about Catwoman?’  
‘Well, you said you liked her. And you said you like me.’  
‘I said I love you.’

This seems to thrown him off a little, and he glances down. 

‘Well, what about her?’  
‘Yes’ you’re choosing to be honest. ‘I did tell her once.’  
‘Really? When?’  
‘After the explosion. The, ah, the standoff with Waller.’  
‘She wanted to kill you. I got her off you.’  
‘You know what those collars do.’ He nods softly. ‘So, after the bombs went off, she saved me.’  
‘Saved you?’  
‘I fell on some broken tube and well, it went trough me.’ You’re carefully avoiding mentioning his involvement in all that, but you can tell he feels guilty. ‘She helped me up.’  
‘What did she say?’  
‘I’m not sure, I was unconscious for the most of it.’ You give a small smile. ‘It doesn’t matter anymore.’  
‘But I caused the explosion. I landed you there. And she... she saved you.’  
‘John...’  
‘No. How can you even do this? She was under Waller’s control and managed to get you out...’  
‘Hey, I liked her. She’s a friend. I just... don’t think we’re good for each other.’  
‘But I’m not good for you either!’  
‘You are. John, you are good for me. I am trying to be good for you too.’ He tries to argue but you continue. ‘John, you’re kind and funny and like, really good with animals. Sometimes I think you’re the only person in this city that gets me.’  
‘I... I don’t know. You make me feel better about liking you. About, you know, loviing you.’ He laughs.  
‘That’s good. As you said, love shouldn’t feel sorry.’

He takes a quick look over his shoulder and leans over to stamp a fast kiss on your cheek.

‘But I’m not that good with animals. I got guinea pigs when I first went out, you know. But it all ended in blood.’

You’re kind of shocked at that. Guinea pigs don’t seem like, that troublesome. ’Guinea pigs are a little evil anyway.’ You shrug, and he laughs.

‘Well, that one surely was. I guess the lesson is never let them near their babies... But back to Catwoman... am I making this weird?’  
‘A little, but he’d have to talk about it anyway. It goes both ways, though.’  
‘What do you mean? Harley? I gave her up for _you_. To be a hero like _you_.’  
‘And I refused to give you up to save Catwoman, but you still have questions.’  
‘Well, I...’  
‘You are the person I want to be with. Stargaze with. Take a walk on the park with. Hold a ferret with. And like, other things too.’  
‘Other things?’ He chokes a little and, even if you were thinking of more ‘real world’ activities, the way he looks at you makes you blush a little.  
‘John Doe!’ you both laugh ‘I am talking about things when you get out of here. Riding a hot air balloon, go camping, I don’t know.’  
‘When I get out of here.’ He sighs. ‘Well, I’ve never seen the ocean. I really messed up when I called Waller’s deal off in the GCPD, right?’  
‘You were doing what you thought was right.’  
‘It seems like I just made this really complicated. I really want to be with you, Bruce. Even if we never go to the beach, you know. Sometimes it feels like you’re indulging me, but I really liked waking up to you.’

You want to hold his hand and reassure him but you won’t. You stay there talking about what you’d like to do, and you notice he’s avoiding talking about Harley. You can live with that. For the moment. As you leave, he asks if you’ll be there tomorrow, and you say you’ll drop by later than usual, you have to talk to Tiffany about all this. At her name, he seems guilty. You’ll have to work on that too. There is a long way for both of you to go, but you feel hopeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no udpate in ages sorry. i'm not gonna kill this fic, i like writing it, job has just been crazy /they're changing everyone's hours but i got lucky and was able to choose mine, still/ and i'm starting trade school /2.6 semesters in college broke my -drums- heart/ so i'll try to update weekly? as opposed to every few days as i used to. so if you're reading this after the whole -it felt like amonth- of no updates, thank you very much (:


	16. drunk mad and dumb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting Alfred to believe you were responsible about your relationship with John was easier than you expected. How will it go with Tiffany? What is John up to in Arkham? Who is Sam? Will someone ever teach me how to write summaries?

You’re under no illusions regarding Tiffany’s posture regarding your relationship with John. Maybe you should have told her, before she found out through the newspapers. You will work it out. You shave and shower, thinking about her text. Talk, she wanted to talk. 

As you wait for her, your phone rings. It startles you, but you pick up nonetheless.

‘Hey buddy!’  
‘John? Ah, what’s wrong?’  
‘Wrong? Nothing. Is this a bad time?’  
‘No, I’m sorry.’ You are. You wish you could stop being on edge. ‘I’m just, like, I shouldn’t be on guard like that.’  
‘I get why you are. But really, I just wanted to talk to you in the phone, you know, like people do.’  
‘And how’s that?’  
‘You know, you tell me about your day, I talk about mine, I ask when you’re coming ho...’ You hear him stop and think for a moment. ‘Well you know. When you’re coming over.’

Home. You think about coming home to him. It makes your heart beat faster. The idea of him waiting around the fireplace when you cross the door. You remember having him around the house. The way it felt almost natural should scare you.

His voice is shy this time, and you realise your silence must have tipped him off. ‘Are you sure I shouldn’t call back later?’  
‘Yeah, I am sorry. I was just thinking. I wish you were here, John.’ You hear him gasp at your admission. ‘I miss you. So that’s my day, how about yours?’  
‘It’s fine.’ He sighs. ‘It’s been... fine. It’s just... they changed my night meds, said I should sleep without pills, but it’s so hard. And we all have to raise early.’ He yawns. ‘So far it’s been a fail.’  
‘Can’t you tell them this?’  
‘I don’t like the pills either, you know. It’s numbing, but I didn’t know the alternative would be this. I was dozing off during today’s education hour, and it was kind of interesting.’  
‘What was it about?’ You seem to remember he didn’t want to attend, but don’t bring it up.  
’Fibonacci numbers.’ He says excitedly. ‘It’s a number series where every number is the addition of the previous two. And how you can find examples in some trees. I just can’t really remember a lot.’  
‘It sounds interesting.’  
‘Hey, you’re probably funding it, so I guess I should thank you. It’s interesting.’

Thank you. You’re pretty sure kids study that in schools. You wonder where he went to school, or if he did at all. You wonder how it feels to forget everything. Your throat feels heavy. ‘I wish I could do more.’   
‘Like what?’  
‘I’d let you sleep all day long.’ You smile, remembering how clueless he looked when he woke up next to you, and you guess there’s not much time to mop around in an Asylum. ‘At least eight hours. Hell, I usually wake up after midday. Then we could read a book about maths in bed, or birds or anything really. I’d like to get you breakfast too, if you’re still tired, but I guess you’d get bored of toast, so we could go out to grab something. I think you’d like...’ You stop yourself, alarmed at his silence. Selina wanted to avoid this kind of sappy stuff, maybe it makes him uncomfortable too. Are you being insensitive talking about these things when he’s still locked up? ‘I’m... I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking this way when you’re...’ If you weren’t listening this intently, you’d have missed the small sobbing sound he left out. ‘Are you alright? I won’t...’  
‘That was... That’s really nice. And’ He takes a breath ‘ And I’d like that a lot. I want to do that, and I want to have plain toast with coffee, and I really want to kiss you again. It should feel wrong, but it just feels, like, it feels right.’   
‘We’re going to do that. And a lot of things more.’

The conversation flows comfortably, and you let yourself enjoy the way he wants to be with you. How it feels to talk about the future without fearing you’re overstepping. He says he can make grilled cheese, and you imagine him fumbling around your kitchen. It’s a nice picture. Not because operating a toaster takes a big deal of energy from you, it’s just comforting. It resembles life. A life that is not fought for in the streets of Gotham, that is not lived in constant lies. It’s homelike. In the end, you have to hang up. He goes back to his routine, you to your expectation. It’s your fault, you wanted to be up early, even she said she’d come by at four thirty. 

She is punctual, and seems calm. You can’t really know what she’s thinking, but hope she can understand.

‘Phew, it does feel different without Alfred around, right? I hope he’s having fun.’  
‘I’m sure he is.’  
‘So what does he think about this ‘I love John’ thing you have going on?’  
‘He... I think he was worried I was seeing John to cling on to Batman, but he doesn’t mind it anymore.’  
‘Really?’ She examines you, as if to tell if you’re lying.  
‘Really.’  
‘You know, I’m sorry. I think I should have been there more. I know I suggested distracting yourself, but I didn’t expect you’d do this.’  
‘This is not a distraction. I had seen him before, you know.’  
‘Why?’  
‘Because we’re friends.’

She gives you an exasperated look. ‘Friends don’t try to kill each other.’

‘Tiffany...’  
‘No. No ‘Tiffany’. I know the way things went with this ‘Pact’ sucked, and I know it’s been hard not having Alfred around, but why _him_?’

You think about John. You wonder if he’s fallen asleep on the rec room. He probably hasn’t. You imagine him yawning while he works on something with kid crayons in the art room.

‘Because I like him. He’s nice to be around.’  
‘He almost killed you.’  
‘I almost killed him.’  
‘That too. How can you not see that is not an argument on your favour?’

Because you’re messed up. Just like him. A little messed up. You’re feeling clearer and can’t explain why.

‘Look, I’d appreciate if you could try to understand. He thought he was doing what’s right.’  
‘All the agents he killed...’  
‘Everyone deserves a second chance, right?’ She looks at you like she didn’t expect you to bring that up. You don’t feel great about doing it. ‘He isn’t like that anymore, hasn’t had anyone in Arkham trouble.’  
‘Don’t you think that’s because you’re around?’  
‘I don’t know. Shouldn’t I be, so he can go back to being the Joker?’  
‘That’s not what I meant.’  
‘You know he got jumped in Arkham? It was my fault, and he didn’t do a thing. Waited until the orderlies broke it. He is honestly trying.’  
‘Oh, boy.’ She sighs. ‘Well, now I know you’re not laying off this.’  
‘What do you mean?’  
‘You can’t stop feeling responsible for him.’ You appreciate how she said responsible instead of guilty, and don’t reply. ‘I guess I just... I just want you to be alright. It’s not just him, it’s all the pressure media is putting on you, and...’  
‘I’m alright. And I appreciate it.’

She laughs and finally takes a seat. You understand her doubts, just wish she’s trust you on this. You can tell she’s trying to. You continue on talking about the events in Ace Chemicals, how she saved Waller and you ask about her hand. She says the one thing he’s willing to give John is how he gets you to go out during the day. The tension disappears gradually. She doesn’t trust John, but she trusts you know what you’re doing. You thank her for listening and walk her out.

It’s late when you get to Arkham, and Erin is manning the reception. She doesn’t look at you, she’s talking to an orderly you hadn’t seen before.

‘It can hardly be considered poetry, I don’t mind her, but she was drunk, mad and dumb when she wrote it.’ You repress a chuckle at that, and they notice you. ‘Weird punctuation doesn’t make it poem, Liz.’ She concludes, and turns to you. ‘So which one are you? Drunk, mad or dumb?’  
‘I think director Richards can talk about it better than I do.’  
‘As if.’ She laughs, which gets Liz to slap her shoulder. ‘He can talk for hours on end about trauma and that’s about it.’  
‘I’m here to see...’  
‘John Doe, yes. A little self explanatory, no? He’s on his room.’

As you make your way there, you can hear them going back to discussing poetry. You wonder what kind of books they have there.

John’s room seems familiar now, and you wonder if he’d like that. You think he wouldn’t. It probably doesn’t feel familiar to him anymore. You guess it used to, before he went out like that. You wish you had been there for him. But now you’re here, and he’s in his bed, carelessly scribbling in a notebook on his crossed legs. He smiles when he sees you, motioning you to come closer. You sit next to him.

‘Hey, how are you holding up?’  
‘Sleep deprivation won’t kill me.’ He rests his head on your shoulder. He seems calm.  
‘What were you writing?’  
‘It’s a list, of things I don’t mind about this place.. You get into lists when you’re here.’

You lean in to read; _apple crumble, widnows_ \- you assume he means windows - _birds, lights, sam, crayons _. You make a doubletake.__

__‘Who is Sam?’  
You tried to sound blasé, but the look he gives you tells you you failed.  
‘Bruce?’ he laughs ‘Come on, jealous much?’_ _

__You’re happy he’s in such good mood, considering, but you still want your answer. Would it be an orderly or another patient? Is Sam for Samson or Samantha? Does that even matter?_ _

__‘It’s just a question.’  
‘Yeah, sure.’ He lays down, resting his head on your lap and makes a face. ‘You look jealous. But if you must know, it’s for supreme arachnid monarch.’  
‘A spider?’  
‘The biggest spider I’ve ever seen. Lives in that window’ he makes a vague gesture. ‘I call it Sam when it comes down.’  
‘So you like the spider.’  
‘Seems friendly enough.’_ _

__You run your hand through his hair and he closes his eyes. After a while, you wonder if he really fell asleep, but he smiles ‘A spider made you jealous.’  
‘Well, can’t I be a little jealous?’ you poke his cheek, making him open his eyes.   
‘No... I mean... What I...’ he looks at you.  
‘Yes?’ You run your finger around his chin, enjoying his confusion. He huffs and bites your hand in a fast movement. The grip of his teeth is gentle, and you laugh.   
‘I gueff I waik the idea of making you jealouf’ You understand what he’s saying, but pull your fingers free. You wipe them on your trousers, and he laughs. ‘You didn’t mind drool when you kissed me’_ _

__You snort ‘Care to remind me?’ You pull him up and kiss him. He seems surprised, but kisses back with a happy sound. He opens his mouth, welcoming, and you sit him up on your thighs._ _

__He pulls back, standing up and stretching to peek out the door. ‘We really shouldn’t do this here.’_ _

__‘I’m sorry, I thought...’  
‘I said we shouldn’t, not I don’t want to.’ He pulls the door half closed and straddles you, taking you by surprise. His weight on top of you is comfortable, and his arms around your neck feel reassuring. He leans in, eliminating the space between you, his body flush against yours, his breath warming your upper lip. You close the gap, kissing him, your hands trailing his back. He moans into your mouth._ _

__You pull away, holding his jaw with your left hand to look at him. His hair is a mess and he’s smiling tiredly. You remember what he said about the pills. He seems abashed by your examination and hides his face on your neck with a small laugh, shifting his arms to your waist. You pet his hair, enjoying the closeness. The feeling of his thighs around yours. You’re making out with John Doe in his asylum room. He looks at you, as if he felt your thoughts, but says nothing. You kiss him again, this time his hands shift to your shoulders, as if holding on to you. Your tongue goes in his mouth and it’s hot and he seems so into it you set your hands in the small of his back. You bite softly into his lower lip, getting a low whine that makes him break apart._ _

__‘I’m sorry, Bruce, I can’t promise I’ll stay silent if you do that.’ You laugh, and he seems bashful and entertained at the same time. ‘It’s not my fault, you’re really good at kissing.’ He gets off you to lay back in the bed.  
‘It’s alright, we’ve taken enough risks, probably.’  
‘I never thought I’d feel like this in this weird asylum.’   
‘Does that mean you’re adding me to that list?’  
‘Don’t get ahead of yourself, you’re no longer committed here.’  
‘And you won’t be forever.’_ _

__He scoffs, and changes the topic to the book he’s into now, Treasure Island. You discuss the role of Dr Livesey and what even motivates Long John. You talk about going out again. When you have to say goodbye, he promises he’ll try to sleep._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yea, another chapter this week, idk man, i really liked this one. but i wrote it while listening to greenday so


	17. screen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm so very sorry for the delay, i'm too tired for a summary, are you sick of the asylum? this may be the chapter.

You arrive to Arkham a little after midday, and you know John isn’t expecting you for an hour or two. You don’t mind, you’re on time to meet with the director and the commissioner. You greet the woman at the frontdesk and head for his office. Your attorneys are already on inside. Okay, you’re kind of on time. Regardless.

The look Gordon gives you is somewhere between exasperation and resignation. You’ll live. Still, you can’t help but remember when he was giving you that look as Batman, and how he managed to trust you. You know this is different. Back then you were a potential ally, now you’re a capricious billionaire. You can feel him assessing your intentions. He pulls you away, while your lawyer discusses with the director.

You say nothing, expecting him to try and detain you or something. In the end, he sighs.

‘What’s with you always being in the middle of these things?’  
‘Wrong place, wrong time?’ You shrug.  
‘Except you stay in the wrong place. You knew Cobblepot was the Penguin and you still showed at the park with your baiting act. When Dent flipped you tried to talk him down. You are still here, trying to free this madman.’  
‘Hopefully it won’t lead to some execution attempt this time.’

He grumps and pulls up a cigarette.  
‘If that doesn’t kill you, director Richards will.’ He leaves it unlit and examines you. Was that too familiar? ‘Just saying, by experience.’ You lie.  
‘You don’t strike me as a smoker’ he raises an eyebrow.  
‘Been trying new things.’  
‘Should that reassure me? Look, I’m just trying to make sense of this. Why did Tiffany Fox want you behind bars?‘  
‘She blamed me for her father’s death.’ You say, dryly, after some hesitation.  
‘Well’ he thinks for a moment. ‘If it means anything, it isn’t on you.’  
If he only knew. You fake contained interest, and he changes the subject.  
‘So one of my officers spotted you around the Riddler’s hideout, instants before being knocked out. Now, you may have had Amanda Waller on your side before, but...’  
‘Waller is on her own side. She just likes having control over people.’  
‘Don’t have to tell me. What does she have in you?’ You scoff, and look around uncomfortably. ‘Was it your relationship with John Doe? How did you really meet him?’

You’re somewhat relieved, past the annoyance. For a moment you thought he was onto you, but if he thinks Waller was blackmailing you with John, he really is off.

‘Well, why? Right here, after your police department arrested me.’ You try not to look smug while saying it. You have a feeling you failed.  
‘I guess I deserve that. Why did you try to talk Waller off giving me the boot then?’  
‘You care about people. Like, people. Not assets.’  
‘You seem to know a lot about her.’  
‘Let’s just say I came by tons of old agency documents and happened to buy them. You know, out of curiosity.’  
He looks at you, and seems to conclude it’s best to know what to expect from what’s happening, instead of trying to prevent it. You glance to the men, now interchanging documents on the other side of the room.  
‘Why are you here, anyway?’  
‘The criminal part of criminally insane ring any bells?’

You’re about to spit a sarcastic retort when you see director Richards walking in your direction. You manage a neutral expression and nod, acknowledging him. He goes on for a bit on some misplaced Stockholm syndrome that may derivate from taking on someone else’s trauma, and you think next time you see Erin you have to tell her she’s right. Trauma is kind of important, you guess, but it’s not really relevant now. He gets to the point and how, considering, they would be willing to release John to you, after some screening that determine he’s not a danger to others. You notice how they skip the ‘or to himself’, but are too busy making sense of it all to point it out. John could walk out by the end of the week.

You say you understand and keep a professional tone, thank them and excuse yourself to give John the news. You check the hour and guess he’ll be on his room, so you make it there. At the door, you see him flipping through some photographs on his bed.

‘Hey, buddy!’ He meets you there and leans over, stamping a fast kiss on your lips. You smile, a little taken aback ‘Was that wrong?’  
‘No, sorry. I was just thinking about something else.’  
‘Something other than kissing me?’ He laughs, and makes it for the hallway. You grab his arm and pull him back inside so he can sit on the bed. ‘Wow, Bruce, kind of...’  
‘Can we talk for a moment? Like, really talk.’  
‘Sure.’ You see his expression change. He thinks he’s in trouble? You hold his right hand on yours, in what you hope is a reassuring gesture.  
‘It’s okay, nothing’s wrong. It’s just that,’ you pause, thinking you should have thought about this conversation before coming, ‘ You’ll need some more screenings.’  
‘What?’ He seems honestly confused. You’re not sure about what was he expecting, but it clearly wasn’t anything asylum related. ‘Really? Why?’  
‘Because... they want to be sure you won’t hurt anyone before letting you go for good.’

He stays there for a moment, like making sense of what you said. Then he sits really straight, looking at you as if trying to detect a lie.  
‘John...’ you start, but he’s cutting you off, tackling you down with a hug that makes the director’s rant about trauma worth it.

He props himself up on your chest, all energy and questions. ‘Am I... You... Is this really happening?’  
‘It is.’ You tangle your fingers on his hair, and pull him down for a kiss. He melts into you, shifting his hands to your shoulders, no longer needing the support. He digs his fingers in and you feel his heart beating fast against your chest. It’s like you’re breathing life from him, as you take in the scent of asylum shampoo on his hair and the way his hips shift under your touch. He whines lowly at your tongue teasing at his lips.

You hear someone yawning loudly and you stop, sitting up and turning to see Erin at the door stretching. She crosses her eyes at you and you get John off you as she gives someone in the hallway a distracted glance ‘I told you he’d be here.’  
Firector Richards enters the room.

‘I assume Bruce has told you what is happening.’ John nods, looking a little confused. ‘Well, I’m just here so you know to show at the office after breakfast tomorrow, if you’re okay with the tests.’  
‘Yes, I will. Like, I am’

Erin hands him some forms to sign while the director explains some generalities. Then, they leave. You both stay for a moment, getting to the idea that John may be out of the asylum for good soon. Then, he suggests going to the rec room and you follow him. You didn't know you were in the mood yo lose at draughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't thank you enough for 75 kudos and 4 digits hits, i'm pissed at mysefl for the time this took
> 
> okay, disclaimer, you know i’m now a lawyer. i went to art school. graduated. then tried to be an engineer bc my father is and i’m the oldest kid, but that’s not the point. i don’t know shit about law except the things cops can’t do. so i kind of skipped that scene. i’m sorry, it has been holding me back because i knew i wanted it on this chapter but had no clue as to how to write it. so i didn’t. I mean, that is not the sole responsible of the time this took, between school and work and everything else tm i have learnt the real meaning of exhausted these past weeks. i am still working around my new schedule, but i think i can update again next week. not promising this time, because my compromises and energy levels love leading my plans awry.


	18. deserve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You honestly can't believe you made it.

You wake up and get some coffee, reading over the latest financial news on your computer. There’s nothing alarming, and you appreciate how people seem to be taking low rate tabloids as that, low rate tabloids. You can’t see John until the doctors are done, but you promised to call. The phone rings twice, and then there’s him.

‘Hello, Bruce!’  
‘Hey, how are you?’  
‘Just fiine’ his voice is flat. ‘Preparing for a thousand questions but they’re all ‘Is murder an acceptable solution?’ veiled by a doctor voice.’  
‘John...’  
‘No, I get it. It’s not like they’re wrong, anyway. I want to do it. I am just scared I’ll do it wrong.’  
‘Okay,’ you think about it for a moment, how much he wants to go out. The possibility of screwing it up must be terrifying. ‘Why do you think you’ll do wrong?’  
‘Because I’m literally a murderer and my line is ‘I promise I’ll lay off murder if you let me out’?’  
‘You are...’ what are you saying? He _is_ a murderer. ‘They know what you’ve done, it’s more than that. They want to know you will achieve some stability better outside than in the asylum.’  
‘Stability always works wonders for me.’ He sighs. 

You want to say something that will help him. If this all goes wrong, you will still have your regular life, still be able to see him. He will stay in Arkham for the foreseeable future. No matter how much this matters to you, it’s not your life on the line. It does feel like that, and you think of saying it, but it’s not about you. 

‘You will do fine. I know you, and I know you can get well.’  
‘What if it goes terribly wrong and they get me on solitary? Or send me to Blackgate?’  
‘I won’t let them.’  
‘You can’t really...’  
‘I can.’ You know they don’t monitor calls, but you still lower your voice. ‘Whatever happens I can still get you out and fly to Nepal’  
‘That’s not funny, Bruce.’  
‘Yeah, that’s because it’s not a joke.’  
‘Bruce!’  
‘Even if they say you can’t go out, I can still kidnap you, right?’  
‘You wouldn’t... I wouldn’t ask you to. You have a life, and you can’t take responsibility of my mistakes.’  
‘I honestly don’t care. And it’s not on you. It’s more... the way Waller did all those things for the greater good, I don’t want to do that. And maybe that’s what it takes. The greater good. I want to be selfish. I want your good.’  
‘Bruce, that’s... that’s a lot.’  
‘I...’ You guess it is. ‘I’m sorry, you...’  
‘No! Not a lot of bad things, no.’ He laughs. ‘A lot of good things. Messy things that feel good.’  
‘Well then, you don’t have to worry.’  
‘I guess not. Thank you, Now I have to hang up.’  
‘Alright. Good luck, John.’  
‘Bruce? I love you.’

He hangs up before you can answer. You’re not really worried, you’re just as worried as anyone in your situation would be. Someone in your situation. You get to the gym to work it off, as you think about how many people have found themselves on your shoes.

It’s way past diner when you park in front of the asylum. You remember being slightly taken aback by it’s facade, but it seems irrelevant now. Be as it may, it’s a building. All kinds of people work and live there. You see John right behind the desk, talking to Erin.

‘That makes no sense.’ Her tone is dull, but you’re used to it.  
‘It doesn’t have to, it’s a joke.’  
‘Well, it would make me laugh if it did.’

This seems to confuse him, and gives you a chance to step in. She notices you first and moves her upper lip. ‘Now he’ll think it’s hilarious, I give up.’  
‘What?’ John turns around and sees you. He takes a step towards you, but you’re quick to meet him inside the authorized hospital area. Which may even be overstepping, since you haven’t seen a lot of patients there. You push that thought off and place a hand on his waist, before remembering the rules. There is no word yet from the director, but you don’t want to overstep. You check on Erin, but she’s focused on her book. John is looking at you like he wants to jump to you, so you smile and guide him to his room.

‘So, how did it go?’  
He throws himself down in the bed. When he talks, it’s muffled by the covers.  
‘It went well. I think. Well, I said ‘no murder’, but they had more questions.’ He sits up. He looks optimistic about the whole thing, and you appreciate it. He brushes a strand of hair off his face. ‘It definitely went well.’

You sit next to him, holding his hand.  
‘I’m glad to hear that, are you excited?’

He tries to say something, but just looks at you and smiles. ‘I just want it to be tomorrow, and get to know what’s going to happen. I really want to go out, but... what if, you know, if I don’t _deserve_ to?’

You’re familiar with that feeling. All the bad you’ve done, can your good intentions outweigh it? Could anything? It’s not something you want him to feel. You get how life was simpler for him before. The asylum, rules, no repercussions. 

‘You didn’t deserve what happened to you. And they didn’t deserve you happening. The people on this city don’t deserve themselves happening to each other. I don’t think life is about that. It’s about what you get to have, instead. And I want’ you swallow. ‘I’d like us to have this.’

He stares at your joined hands, and presses a kiss to your cheek. He seems content. You ask about his camera, and he shows you more pictures of birds, and an out of focus shot of Sam. He’s got pictures of the sun, disappearing behind the walls of the yard, and one of the small window in the room. You take the camera and shoot him, laying down in the bed. He laughs and says you didn’t centre the subject, and you could work on your composition.

He takes a picture of you next to the door, when you have to leave, trying to hide his weariness. 

‘Come on, John, I’ll come by tomorrow.’  
‘I didn’t say anything!’  
‘Can you look at me, then?’

He does, slightly jutting his jaw out.  
‘John.’  
‘I know, I do. I just want you to stay, I’m sorry, okay?’  
‘Don’t be’ You cup his face on your palm. ‘Please don’t be, because then I have to be sorry for wanting it too.’

He gives you a resigned smile, and you lean in and kiss him. It’s soft and it feels like making a wish. He pulls back and you feel his words on your lips. ‘Why do you want to stay?’  
‘Because I love you.’  
He kisses you, holding you like he could make you stay like that. 

You wake up early next morning and call Arkham. It’s just past six and you’re a little surprised when someone picks up. You want to know what’s going to happen, what to expect from John. Will you get to walk him out for good, or just be by his side when they refuse? Either way, he’ll need you there. Want you there. It’s a fast call, but you can hear the scepticism in doctor Alineva’s voice when she says he’s going out. You don’t listen to anything after that, just wait until she’s done talking and thank her. She makes a question and you have to ask her to repeat it. She wants to know if you want to tell him yourself. You say no. It’s his life, and he should get the news on his own. You say you’ll be there at eight to pick him up.

Two hours never felt that endless. You start thinking about what’s happening. John is really getting released. He’ll get a life outside. You were thinking he’d stay at the manor, but now wonder if that’s the right call. Maybe you could get him a nearby apartment, would that be better? He must be wanting a space of his own. Well, you’ll have time to ask him later. You feel like you have all the time in the world. Still, just soon enough, it’s time to go. 

You’re not a nervous wreck driving to the asylum. At all. You find yourself turning the radio on and singing along to some recent hit you’ve heard around the city.

As you enter the building, you expect to see Erin, or director Richards or, Liz? Or any orderly. Instead, you see him, standing on this side of the reception desk. That makes it real, and you freeze for a second. John doesn’t. He jumps to wrap his arms around your neck, and before you know it, you’re holding him so close it’s like you’ll melt together.

‘I figured there was no point in making him wait inside’ Erin’s toneless voice had never sound so melodic to you, and you raise your face from his shoulder to look at her. She raises her left brow, almost friendly. ‘But you still have to sign the release forms.’

You pull away and go to the desk. John follows you and picks the tattered box next to the papers. You skim over the text, and sign. She tilts her head to the door, and bids you farewell.

You thank her with a nod, and head for the exit. As you go out, you feel John’s hand sliding into yours, and finally find your voice.

‘I can’t believe we made it.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyy, finally a chapter that didn't take eons. writting this made me feel really good and i hope you feel good reading it (: thank you for the hits kudos and comments~  
> it is longer than expected, but i didn't want to leave a cliffhanger. it;s not that long, though


	19. knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So you got John out of the asylum. First things first, you need breakfast.

John’s hand feels surreal in yours as you stand, just steps away from your car. Like it was about to dissipate in smoke. As if to prove you wrong, he raises it to his chest, allowing you to feel his heart racing under his thin white shirt. He leaves the box in the bonnet and turns to you.

‘Bruce’ he hesitates. You really hope he’s not about to thank you, because you don’t think you could take it right now. In the end, he laughs. ‘Can I kiss you?’

How is he nervous about that? Instead of answering, you shift your hand to his back and pull him in, joining your mouths. He hums into the kiss, pleased, and leans back on your car, relaxing into your touch. He bites lightly on your tongue when you swirl it over his bottom lip and you could just stay there all day, but you know you shouldn’t. 

‘We should get going’ you pull apart. For a moment you think he’ll refuse, or try to make a run for it. It is probably unfunded. Still, you’re not sure you wouldn’t do it in his situation. In the end, he picks up the box and you get in the car.  
You press a fast kiss on his nose when you lean over to get the seatbelt, and he laughs. He taps his fingers on the box as you start driving towards the manor. You’ll figure out what to do next from there. You let the relief of knowing John doesn’t have to go back wash over you. 

You park and go to get his door, but find he’s already out and laying in the ground, staring at the clouds.  
‘Are you alright?’ you crouch beside him.  
‘Thank you.’  
‘You don’t have to...’  
‘No, I do.’ He closes his eyes and you pet his hair. ‘You gave me a life again. Or a chance at it.’  
‘Well, then you’re welcome.’ You sit down. ‘We should talk about this, though.’ He looks at you, green irises searching your face. It feels expecting, it feels right. But also wrong, the way he seems to await for direction. He shouldn’t. ‘I’m thinking I can get you a flat nearby. Fully equipped, of course.’ He gives you a tired look. Maybe it’s too soon to talk about living arrangements. ‘If you’d like that. You could also stay here.’

He moves up on his arms, laying his head on your lap. ‘I’d like to stay with you.’  
‘That’s great’ you encourage. ‘It would also be great if you told me what you want, I want you to be comfortable.’  
‘But I also want you to be... comfortable.’ He hesitates. ‘And I don’t know what you want.’  
‘I guess I should have been a little more thorough.’ You shift your hand until you’re caressing the back of his neck. ‘But I thought I was being clear’ He shivers from the contact, tilting his head back. You trace an x over his adam’s apple, like a promise. ‘I would like to have you around as much as possible.’

He looks startled, as if he didn’t expect you to say that. He sits to face you, and extends his right pinkie. ‘No takebacks?’  
You manage a half smile as you lock your fingers. ‘No takebacks’

He goes to say something, but you pull him in and kiss him. He presses against you, eager. Your hands rest on his waist and he’s almost completely leaning on you. His mouth is pliant under yours and he wraps his arms around your shoulders. You feel the slight tension in his shoulders disappear as he basically melts on you. He moans softly and pulls apart.

‘What?’  
‘Nothing’ he buries his face on your neck.  
‘John?’  
‘I’m just really very in love with you’

You shift your hands to his back and get up to carry him inside, which makes him laugh.  
‘I love you, John. Let’s get inside. Have you had breakfast?’  
‘I saw sam before leaving.’ The change in subject doesn’t go unnoticed, but you say nothing. ‘I don’t feel sorry about leaving, but that was a good spider. Like...’  
‘Yes?’  
‘I thought about getting it out. But I guess it’s a good place for a spider.’  
He lifts his head to look at you. You can imagine the change, although desired, is not easy. You press a kiss to his temple.  
‘I could get you a tarantula pet.’ This makes him laugh.  
‘I’d settle for breakfast.’

You let him down on the counter and start the coffee machine. He jumps to his feet, watching you work.  
‘What can I do?’  
‘Just sit down, I’ll get this in no time.’  
‘But I want to help’  
You kiss him and lead him to the table. As you turn on the stove he’s about to protest, but you hand him a knife and a loaf of bread.   
‘Slice this, then. Careful.’  
As you say that, you get back to watch over the eggs and bacon you’re frying. You _trust_ John, of course. Still, you can’t help but remember the way he held a knife to Waller’s throat as the Joker. Maybe you should have given him a different task. You tell yourself it’s not relevant, but turn to see him just holding the knife. You walk over and stand beside him. You press a kiss to his hair and cover his hand in yours. 

‘I don’t know, I...’

You hush him, guiding him to cut into the bread. It stops being about the knife and him, the focus is now on your hands. You leave him to turn the stove off, and get the plates. And you can’t help but look at him as he puts the knife away, but you are not worried. Not about him attacking you. You wonder if knifes make him uncomfortable now or it’s your presence. You remember driving a batarrang through his hand. Does he notice you staring? You close the distance, standing behind him when he turns around, his back against the sink. You raise a hand to his chest and go for a neutral topic.

‘Do you really like these hospital shirts?’  
‘Would you rather see me in a suit?’ he laughs. ‘The staff thought it would be better to go out in hospital clothes.’ His chin is on your shoulder and his voice is low, as if he was telling you a secret. Your hands travel down to his hips and he sighs happily ‘I honestly never thought we could get here’.

You share a fast kiss and get to the table. You have breakfast while he asks about the manor. Are there any haunted rooms, why isn’t Alfred here, what’s the darkest room in the ground floor, what’s the biggest window, is there a door that looks like the one from that movie? You have to confess you haven’t watched any recent thrillers, and he laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like i am not sorry about tons of things i've done, but i am sorry for the month(s) since last update. i have no excuse, other than how i'm used to use my words around people and now i'm not. still, if there's anyone still reading this, i hope you like the update. i was able to feel fine for some time and writing this made me feel even better. tbh we're in like lockdown and it's still killing me. curfews and everything, ik corona is bad for everyone but come onnnnnn.  
> ii also just gave it a one over and it's shorter and weirder than i expected. still, next one will be better ok


	20. perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wonder how you managed to have breakfast and a reasonable conversation keeping off each other. You don't have to worry about it for long, though.

As you stumble back into your room, John holding onto you as if he thought you could disappear at any given moment, you wonder how you managed to have breakfast and a reasonable conversation keeping off each other. Not that it’s relevant at the moment, not that you’re too worried about it.

‘John...’ you try to say something, to make a plan for the day, or anything really, but his hands are around your face as he kisses you and it suddenly doesn’t matter anymore. This is different, this is unrestricted. You don’t have to worry about timestamps, orderlies or the public. You pull him closer with your hands on his hips and he breaks the kiss, gasping. You move your attention to his neck, feeling his legs weaken when you bite on the soft skin, and for a moment you think you should ask before leaving marks, but he pushes you until you’re sitting on the bed, and you decide that’s a yes. 

You lay back, pulling him down with you. He laughs quietly, and his hands slide under your shirt. His lips are on yours again and you press on them until you can slide your tongue into his mouth. It’s hot, and his hands tense on your chest. His weight on top of you is comfortable, his body against you, this close, seems like the best feeling in the world. You run your hand up his back, and he pulls back, staring into your eyes.

‘You should really lose the shirt’ he mutters, hiding his face on your neck.

You chuckle at that, and sit him up to take a look at him. His hair falls around his face and you see his chest rising with his breath.

‘Don’t you want to get out of here?’ You try to keep your voice neutral, thinking of all the time he’s spent indoors, and wondering if you shouldn’t be making the most out of his newly acquired freedom.

‘Out of here?’ he seems to think about it, his expression distant, his hands resting on the pit of your stomach.

‘I just mean to say, maybe you’d appreciate going out, seeing the city without thinking about having to go back, or something.’ You raise your hand to rest your fingers in his chin.

He gives it some thought, and then presses a fast kiss to your lips. ‘No. Later.’

You sit up, chasing the feeling of his mouth, and proceed to take your shirt off, as requested. He raises his arms, as an invitation, and you remove his as well. You feel something expand on your chest as you pull him close and kiss him, more deeply than before. He shifts on your lap, his arms around your neck.

‘I really want you, really.’

Instead of answering, you slide your hands under his trousers, feeling him pressing against his pants. You take his mouth on yours again, and he lays you down. You turn so you can hover above him, and move to kiss his neck. His hands run through your hair, and you feel his breath catch as you kiss his chest, your hands moving to tease his nipples. 

And should you be doing this at all? Shouldn’t today be more about John, about his life? He’s being more than eager, but isn’t that to be expected? You push his pants down as he grasps for the sheets and you don’t think you’d be able to change the way this is going. Not like you want to, but somewhere inside your mind you’re still processing his release. You take him on your hand, sitting up, and the next moment he’s wrapped his legs around your waist, so you can probably assume he’s processing everything just fine.

‘John...’ you start.

He rises, propped up on his elbows, and gives you a look: ‘Please tell me you have lube here.’

You exhale a short laugh, resting a hand on his thigh, pulling him up to kiss him. ‘Yes’

You get up to fetch it, and hear him fall back into bed. You turn back to see him digging his hands on the pillow under his head. You kneel between his legs, resting his thighs over yours. You press your hand around his face, and he smiles.

‘Are you alright?’

He nods, closing his eyes, his expression so calm it hurts. ‘I want you to do it.’

He spreads his legs wider while you coat your fingers in the liquid. He keens as you push one in, pressing a kiss on his bended knee. His breath is heavy and eyes seem glazed as you make circular motions, checking his face for any sign of pain, but he looks expectant, his lips parted. You mouth along his thigh and add a second finger, feeling him tense around you. By the time you’re three fingers in, he’s rocking his hips on them, small whines leaving his throat when he gets an angle that’s just right.

You pull them out to kiss him and he hooks a leg around your waist, his hands pushing your trousers out of the way. You hold the back of his head as you push in slowly, and he lets out a choked moan. You bottom out, exaamining his features, and he’s _smiling_ at you. You plant two kisses in his cheekbones, giving him time to adjust. The last thing you want to do is hurt him. He moves his hips tentatively, and you him, wanting to drag the moment a bit, wanting him to be sure.

‘Bruce, please.’ his voice is hoarse and he rests a hand over yours.

You nod, rolling your hips, and feel him tensing around you, his hands on your shoulders. You start a gentle pace and he kisses you. Open mouthed and wet and it’s so hot you feel your hips snap forward, getting a muffled whine from him. You pick up the pace, and his arms are around you, his breaths coming out heavy. You mouth at his neck, and he groans when he feels your teeth pressing on his skin. You want him, you’ve wanted him for so long, and he’s under you letting out those sounds and holding you like a lifeline. 

‘You’re taking me so good’ you breathe, pulling up just enough to wrap a hand on his member, and he presses tighter around you with a moan. ‘So good, perfect’

He nods, letting out a series of moans as he moves, trying to get more of the sensation. You change the angle, going deeper, faster. He groans your name, swearing as he takes it. He draws in a sharp breath followed by a high moan and then you’re seeing him coming on your hand, spilling on your chests. He looks at you, his eyes unfocused, his body pliant, and you’re following him, finishing on him with a groan. 

You kiss him as you pull out to lay beside him, and he follows, resting his head on your chest. You run your fingers through his hair as you come down. You reach for his hand, and kiss the back of it, taken by an unexpected impulse. He raises his head to look at you, and you allow yourself to get lost in his vivid green eyes, in the pink of his lips, stark against his ever pale skin

It will be fine, you realise. It will be better than fine. He’s here, with you, and you feel like you have all the time in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not dead i only dress that way. i know this took almost a year and i'm sorry, i actually am, and i'm not sorry often. last year kicked my arse to galactic proportions but it's cool now. i have a new job and i'm probably going back to college. i hope you're all doing fine and i hope you like the chapter!!


	21. you got

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go out, you want his first day out to be everything he thought it’d be. It's everything you expected, for sure.

‘What were you saying about getting out of here?’

He’s staring into the ceiling, his head resting on your stomach, your hands interlaced beside you. It’s unexpected when he speaks, and it gets a hearty laugh out of you. You pull him up to look at him, a part of you wondering at the way he lets himself be manhandled until he’s lying on his side, allowing you to stare into his eyes.

‘Yes.’ You say simply. ‘Let’s go see the ocean, let’s kayak in the British Isles, drive the fastest car after the Batmobile, I don’t know.’

‘What would even be the fastest car after the Batmobile?’ 

You pretend to think about it. ‘Maybe… probably the Batmobile in day mode.’

This seems to amuse him and he flashes you a smile, sitting up to look for a pillow he proceeds to throw at your face. Oh, now he’s in for it. You follow his lead, reaching for the pillow under you and getting him full on. You find yourself in a playful wrestle with him than would be easier to win if you weren’t both trying to breath through the laughter. You end up wrapping him on the covers, and he gives you an aggravated expression, which you’d take more seriously if he wasn’t trapped on your weighted blanket.

When he manages to crawl out, he’s more agreeable, and accepts your suggestion to go for a shower and get dressed. Taking a quick shower seems like an exercise on self control, but you manage to limit your contact to washing his hair. The thought of having a reprise of the bedroom scene enters your mind, but you keep it at bay. You want his first day out to be everything he thought it’d be. 

You step out of the shower, letting your eyes linger on his slender figure before giving him some of your clothes. Seeing the trousers pool on his ankles and the general way your shirts fit on him, you set your first destination to a clothing store. You leave to try on the rest of them and make a phone call.

When he jumps on the car next to you, he’s wearing a green shirt with black slacks and he’s somehow managed to find fade shades that seem ridiculous, considering the weather, but suit him nonetheless.

‘Where are we going!?’ His excitement is contagious. It also makes you think of all the days you both spent cooped up in Arkham, and how harder must it have been for him. You don’t want to think about it anymore, and start the car, accelerating all the way to the main gates, and then into the city.

‘I thought we could get you clothes that fit, now that you’ll have a decent wardrobe.’

You turn, and see his smile waver. You slow down, and reach for his hand, running your thumb across his knuckles, thinking of the right way to ask about whatever’s in his mind. In the end, you don’t need to, as he squeezes your hand and speaks.

‘Won’t there be too many people in the store?’

Of course, you’ve been out before, but not in such a setting. Hell, you had to run into a mall and get him clothes previously. His worry is understandable. Even you haven’t properly thought about how you’ll manage in public any more. Still, you _did_ think about this.

‘Don’t worry, there won’t be anyone where we’re going.’

‘How can you know that?’

‘Because I bought the store this morning.’

He scoffs at that, but it sounds surprised more than anything else. He doesn’t let go of your hand but doesn’t say anything else as you park in front of the store. He follows you inside, alsmost skittish. There is no music inside, which makes it just this side of weird. You turn to look at him, holding both of his hands on yours. 

‘Are you feeling okay, John?’

‘I am.’ He smiles. ‘I really am, it’s just… well, it’s something.’

You pull him close, and press a soft kiss on his lips, it’s what you can think of at the moment, because you understand his stance. It’s a lot. It feels like normal, and like not normal. You don’t know if there’s a _normal_ for people like you, and it only makes you all the more grateful for his company. You hope you can be a similar reassurance for him. He lets go of your hands, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. When you part you press a hand to the small of his back, facing the racks of clothes.

‘Well, go pick whatever you like.’

He presses a kiss to your cheek and skips to the jackets. You don’t want to weigh on his decisions, so you stay fumbling with the audio. When he gets back, you’ve got it to play some jazz song you don’t recognise. He strikes a pose, and you take him in, in low rise dark grey jeans and a lilac shirt with a bubble tea drawing in white. The sunglasses are now holding his hair back.

‘What do you think?’

You think he looks amazing, and you tell him so. You walk through the store with him, throwing random clothes in your baskets. He picks what he thinks he’ll like to wear, you select a few casual outfits for yourself, now that you’re not Batman and won’t have that excuse not to maintain a more accessible public image. He doesn’t bother looking for the changing rooms when he finds a shirt he _must_ try on, and why should he?

You make your way to the register, and John laughs when you stand behind the counter, ready to bag the clothes.

‘I seem to have forgotten my wallet.’ He leans on the desk.

‘There is no...’ He rests his index on your lips, stopping you from completing the sentence.

‘Could we figure something else out?’ 

You smile when you discover his game, pushing your worries aside.

‘I don’t know,’ You run your knuckles on his jawbone. ‘What did you have in mind?’

When he leans in to kiss you, you allow yourself to think of how far you’ve come. How possibilities open for both of you now. It’s a good day, and John is with you. You jump over the counter and join him when the song changes to something more animated. 

He steps towards you and grabs your hand, and then you’re swaying in circles, to some pop rockish song. He spins and you do a basic five step tango. He seems impressed and tries copying you. You hold him close and spin him as his laughter mixes with the music around you.

By lunchtime, he’s changed his clothes twice. Once at the shop and once in your car, having dismissed your worries of causing an accident with a simple ‘Doesn’t this have an autopilot? You couldn’t crash if you wanted to.’

You huff at that, and ask him what he wants for lunch. He thinks about it, stares out the window, and then points out a pizza place down the street. The words Carisa’s Pizza are in the front, between two pepperoni slices, which make you think of the laurels people put on the sides of important text sometimes. You park and are about to make some excuse for him to stay in the car, but he’s already out and making his way towards the door. You chase after him entering the shop, alive with the lunch rush.

You make it to the counter, and order a marinara pie with ham to go. You wait for it around, rather than taking a table. You can feel eyes on you: even if they didn’t recognise you, it's hard not to notice John. He comments on the decorationsin the counter, but you tense as a girl approaches you from the other side of the counter. She’s got a nose ring and a curious look that sets off an alarm on your head.

‘Isn’t marinara pizza boring?’ She says, sounding like you were killing her. She then looks nervously around. ‘Don’t tell my mum I said that, she’ll actually disown me.’

This gets a gigle out of John. 

‘That’s why we added ham.’ you argue.

She gives you a once over ‘Wise decision. In the future, if I may suggest, our prosciutto is a killer.’

‘What is prosciutto?’

She is still explaining to a bewildered John why it’s good even if it’s not _actually_ cooked, because it’s been dry cured, when your pizza arrives. You promise to explain to him the difference between cotto and crudo and make it back to your car. You make good on your promise back home, as you eat, and halfway through he has to stop and ask if you’re sure they’ve cooked the ham. Afterwards, you show him around and try to organise the new clothes.

When you go to bed that night, it’s with him, and you let yourself relish in it: the warmth of his body in your arms, the scent of his hair against your face, the rhythmic movement of his chest when he breathes. The hem of his shirt rides up when he presses closer to you, and you let that thought lull you to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song in the store/title is for you got by melee. it’s my favourite song in the entire world but i never tell anyone because it’s not my kind of music and i’m not immune to boxes. also i don’t like any other of their songs and i don’t want to sound like a poser ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	22. better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is Gotham like when you’re not on the run? While you're probably not the most indicated person to answer that, you are willing to find out. And if it involves doing some local tourism with John, well, all the better.

You could get used to waking to John’s snoring shape next to you. You imagine you will, eventually, and the thought makes you happier than you can explain. Rather than waking him up, you lay next to him going through your phone. You’d like to avoid news reports, but decide to click on the article Regina sent you. It’s surprisingly benevolent, taking a rehabilitation positive approach. It features a picture showing you exiting the pizza shop, hand in hand.

You don’t think that’s the prevalent opinion. Probably the poor woman scanned articles until he found a favourable one, which only makes you appreciate her effort all the more. Then you see Alfred’s message and you stop yourself just on time before making a sudden movement that could startle John. He says he will be back the day after tomorrow, and congratulates you on moving John into the mannor. You get out of bed, rushing downstairs to pick up the small collection of jackets laying around in the main hall. The manor is not a mess _mess_ , but it’s definitely… different. You think Alfred will understand, though, and settle in an ottoman to order breakfast in. Then you text Tiffany the news. Regardless of her feelings towards John, you know she’ll like seeing Al.

When you make it upstairs, John is stretching in bed. His face lights up when he sees you. You hand him a roast beef bagel, and he seems thrilled. He leans in to kiss you halfway through it, and you postpone the rest for some cuddles. You finish breakfast before he makes any attempt to get out of bed. 

While he’s getting dressed, you decide to tell him Alfred’s coming back. He’s always liked him, and he beams when he hears he’s coming back. 

‘What are you doing today, Bruce?’ He goes into the closet, grabbing a jacket that is definitely yours. You smile at that, but decide not to mention it. ’What is Gotham like when you’re not on the run?’

‘Well, it’s...’ You think about it for a while. To be honest, you don’t really make a lot of peaceful life in the city. Didn’t use to, anyway. ‘We could go to a museum? Contemporary arts or natural history, which one are you feeling?’

‘Do they have dinosaurs in the natural history one?’

‘I guess.’ You pull out your phone to find out. ‘Hey, they have like half a triceratops and a duriavenator.’

‘Duria-vena-tor.’ 

Fortunately, John has mastered the art of saying ‘duriavenator’ by the time you stand in front of the real thing. Even as you stare at the fossil, you can feel his awe. He insists on taking at least ten pictures in front of it, and you happily comply. You make your way through the building, and it’s your time to be amazed in the ocean section. You feel your eyes widen as you stare through some primitive shark’s jaw. He snaps a picture and rests his head on your shoulder.

‘I know I shouldn’t, but i kind of want to touch it. Kind of want to touch everything.’

The way that sentence started had you worried, but now you find yourself stifling a chuckle at the conclusion. Of course. 

‘Well, that’s how you know you’re in a museum.’ You explain.

‘Unfair!’

You continue your way. You’re almost at the exit when you make a turn for the gift shop. It’s still morning and you can’t see any school field trip, so John gets to pick through the replicas until he finds a megalodon skeleton. You get it, along with a couple of postcards. You have some time to kill so you go in for the Aubrey Beardsley temporary exhibition in the Contemporary Arts museum, three blocks away.

You get lunch in the restaurant across the street, where you eat your hummus toast while John rants about the drawings you just saw. You’re half listening to him, and half making sense of his amazement. You’re not used to being out and about in the city, but you have been in museums before. Hell, you’ve probably written essays about some of the pieces you saw today bakc in college. You’re glad John gets to go out now, but you also feel somewhat responsible. Still, you manage to check back into reality.

‘... and I really liked the woman with eyes on her cape.’

‘Ah, La Beale Isolde.’ You remember. ‘I liked Venus Between Terminal gods. It had a weird kind of balance.’

John nods and, finally, starts eating. He seems unaware of the stares the people in nearby tables give you, and you hope he is. You get the feeling Gothamites will get over it one way or the other, with some time. If anything, they have gotten over weirder things. Still, you’d appreciate it if there was a way to accelerate the process. 

As you make your way back to your car, it seems apparent you’ve tempted destiny a tad too much, as some guy in a worn out denim jacket steps straight in front of you and snaps a picture. You give him the most bored look you can muster, but John takes a step forward.

‘What are you going to write with it?’

This seems to shock him as much as it shocks you, but you don’t let it show. He adjusts his square glasses, taking another look at him. ‘What do you want me to write with it?’

‘You could write about dinosaurs.’ John says, after a moment. 

You nod, curtly, and drag him away with your hand on his arm. He follows willingly, with a pensive expression on his face. He reaches for your hand as you walk away. He doesn’t say anything and you decide not to push him. When you’re back in your car, he turns to you.

‘Why do people like those stories about you? About me?’

You take a breath, thinking on how to word the science behind scandals, as much of an oxymoron as that seems. ‘It’s fun, I guess. Controversy is entertaining.’ You start the car.

‘Are we controversial?’

‘I think we are.’ You don’t feel like going deeper in that regard, and change the subject. ‘Hey, there’s worse ways to kill time.’

‘There’s also better ways. We did crafts in Arkham.’

That’s simple, and it makes sense, and yet you find yourself laughing at the idea of people waking up on a sunday morning and making lava lamps instead of reading sensationalist bullshit over so called celebrities. In no time, John joins you and for a few minutes the car is filled with your cackles. As it dies down, John eyes your phone, in your jacket’s pocket. It makes you realise he doesn’t have one, and you wonder how you could have passed it up.

‘Remind me to get you a phone would you? Did you want to check something out?’

‘I kind of wanted to know what they say. About me.’

‘Sure.’ You hand it to him. It may be illadvised, but you don’t think holding it from him would help. You remember Regina’s message. ‘Actually, Regina Zellerbach, from the board, sent me one of the articles this morning.’

John nods as he taps through your messages, following the link. ‘ _An argument for local restaurants and rehabilitation?_ ’ he read. ‘I didn’t know someone took a picture.’

‘Yeah, me neither. It’s not a bad one.’ He makes a neutral sound as he continues reading. Now you think maybe it wasn’t a great idea. ‘Don’t sweat it about the title, half the time they just want something that’ll grab readers. I’m sure today’s guy will quote you on his next one.’

This makes him stop, as he looks at you. ‘Was it wrong?’

‘Wrong? No. You just said to talk about dinosaurs. He probably already knew we were in the museum. It was good, it was simple.’

‘Even so, you don’t usually engage.’

You’re about to ask how does he know, but you remember he used to read about you, and you don’t want to put him on the spot. ‘Look, I’m not into talking to them, but I don’t mind that you do. If you do.’

He continues reading. ‘This is not bad. I mean, not _bad_ bad.’

‘It’s going to get better. Eventually. Gradually.’ You give him a hesitant smile, and he grabs your hand.

He doesn’t let go until you are back in the manor and, taken by some impulse, you stop him from getting out, instead shifting your body to straddle him on his seat. He looks up at you, his green eyes filled with amazement that makes you want to kiss him until this feels natural. His arms wrap around your waist, trying to pull you close, as you press into his warm lips. He lets out a soft moan when you enter his mouth with your tongue, you revel in the small hitch of his breath, soft under your nose.

You slide your hands under his shirt, you bite lightly on his lower lip, and you think _It’s going to get better_. You think it’s already getting better. You kiss him like you could learn him those words by physical coaxion, and you kiss him in a way that reminds you it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don’t ask me when did i learn to write again, i do not know. anyways i tried to make this longer than usual bc i'm all out of cigarettes /the power behind my motivation/ and i don't get paid until next week so i probably won't update until then. but i will update arounf the 10th. hope you liked this chapter! i had fun writing it. i like sharks. and bagels. btw!!!! thanks for 152 kudos!!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> life is hard so i try to write nice stuff. like, i tagged light angst but it's like really really light. i can't deal with that bullshit irl and also in a fic. i'm not sure as to where this is going?


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